Sticks and Stones
by blondevor
Summary: Epilogue posted. Thank you so much for reading over the years! Spoilers for everything.
1. On the Outside

Disclaimer: Don't own any of it and this is just for fun. Major spoilers for Season 4 finale and Season 5.

Archive: Sure but let me know where.

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Michael calculated the risks of his next move, like he calculated everything since his death to the Section. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before Operations had enough time on his hands to discover that he hadn't died that day. He was most likely already poking around, looking for proof, enlisting whomever he could. Operations had many reasons for doing it that Michael understood, Madeline's suicide being the primary one. It would also cast doubt on Nikita's loyalty to Center and to the Section, which would give him more power than he had at present. Anyone who had wielded power to the degree that Operations had couldn't live without it very easily, especially since it had been torn from him by the one person that he had underestimated the most, Nikita.

Not that Operations had been alone in this, clearly he himself had underestimated her as well. When he'd first heard the whispering around section as he walked down to the interrogation room he didn't believe it. Evaluation time. Madeline had committed suicide? Walter sent to the farm? His Nikita, alive, and playing both sides? Impossible, so he'd thought. He'd never seen it coming, never suspected the truth, and it was this that had surprised him the most. All the times he had been lying to her and felt badly about it, she had been lying to him as well...and had it ever been a doozy. He still found it hard to believe. His material, his Nikita, leading two lives. It wasn't hard to figure out her motives but he hadn't realized just how much like him she had become. There weren't words that existed that could explain the emotions it had stirred in him that with all they had been through together, all they had conquered, that it had come to this. Why couldn't she have just told him?

He remembered the thoughts going through his head as she had tried to put a positive twist on his disloyalty to Section, sitting there behind that glass. So unlike the glass they had held their hands against just hours before. Was that his own blank stare he saw on her face? He didn't know this Nikita, didn't recognize her from the woman he'd been driving with just a day ago. Had he ever really known her at all? Would they deny him even this? This small piece of sanity in an insane world. Hadn't he given them everything up to this point? Did they have to take her too? It was then that he had spoken. He could bring up the pained look in her eyes, a brief flash, as he signed his own death warrant. The words echoed in there, sitting in the space between them, reverberating. There was no turning back anymore.

"That's not true. I betrayed Section. I put your well being above everything else."

He was only slightly sorry that he'd left her no choice and even this sorrow stemmed only from the pain he knew she would have to endure once he was gone. He had been there...he knew that particular heartache. He would have spared her it if he could have but, like her, it was out of his reach. His final thought as she decreed his fate was that if this _was_ how it was all to end, it would not end without the truth between them. It would not end without her being unable to deny that what had been between them had been real. She had always wanted the answer to that question back when he had been unable to give it. Unable because their reality was so convoluted and the path twisted back on itself so often that it was hard to distinguish between what was real and what was Section and he knew that mere words wouldn't really have given her what she desired. Well no more, here he was and the only thing that didn't surprise him was that everything was crystal clear when you had nowhere left to go. Of course he couldn't have known at that moment that this was _not_ how it was all going to end.

Michael closed his eyes briefly. It seemed so long ago already. Operations was still alive and everyone thought Michael was dead, except Nikita of course. It put Nikita in a precarious position since all those who knew her, respected her before, would now be wary. Who would she turn to in moments of need? Who would protect her now that he was no longer able? All these new questions haunted him and yet he couldn't allow himself to worry about Nikita at this present moment. He had to trust that he trained her well enough for her to know that she needed to watch her back, well enough to know that Paul was a danger to her and to the Section still. Trust! He ran his hand through his now long unruly locks. When had that become so easy to him? Since your own death, he told himself. Still, he couldn't afford any clink in his emotional armor right now. If trust was what it took he would dig it out from somewhere in himself, deep and buried, where he'd put it away from prying curious eyes that would have taken advantage of it in the past. Nikita had survived this long and through much worse. She would survive a little longer. She had to. Anyone who tried to change that would have to beg him for mercy, only to find that he had none. Had they shown Simone any mercy? Or Elena? No, he had nothing to give them on that count anymore.

He would need her trust in the coming days as well. Would she understand that he had no choice in his methods? Was it possible that she would be able to trust him implicitly? He sighed as he went over the intel one more time that he'd intercepted from the Collective. He couldn't afford even the slightest slip. One slip could mean Adam in the hands of Section or worse. One slip could put Nikita in jeopardy. Of all the missions he had ever profiled this was proving the most difficult. His own death meant nothing to him except for the fact that it would mean that Adam would be left with no one to watch him over. No one to keep the demons away...and Michael knew full well just how real those demons were. Of course there was always Nikita, but armed with the knowledge of her role as center mole, he didn't know if he could trust her with Adam. He thought about this even as he said it inside his own head...no, that was wrong. He could trust her. He just couldn't trust the position she was in.

He thought back to the day only months ago when she had saved his life, the same day she had told him that she didn't love him, that she had never loved him. Until that moment he hadn't realized just how much he had depended on the constancy of Nikita's love for him. As he had pushed his knife into his own skin under his eye he had felt no physical pain, only the sensation that she had ripped his heart out and was squeezing it within her fist that was clenched hard against her hip. He would swear that he had seen drops of blood, his blood, seep from between those strong fingers of hers. He could never be certain though because he had never broken eye contact with her, willing her to break her own lie in two. She had not. He hadn't believed her, even then, but hearing the words pass over her lips had hurt enough. That she had been protecting him, he was certain of. Hadn't he committed similar crimes to protect her? Thinking back he realized that he had lost count of how many times he had lied to her just to keep her alive. They had both lied, would lie again. It was a part of who they were...who Section had made them become. He could not fault her for it. Maybe one day they would be free from the lies but not today.

So he calculated, worked tirelessly to formulate a plan that would reunite him with the two people he could not, would not, live without. Adam and Nikita. It had become his mantra, the first thing from his lips in the morning and the last vision behind his eyes at night. He would find a way. Hadn't he promised Nikita that so long ago? Yes, he would keep that promise. So many things he could never give her but finally maybe this was within his power. It would not be easy. But then he couldn't remember what easy felt like and knew with a certainty that it would not suit either of them anymore anyway. No matter...he had told her not long ago that there would be another day...that day had arrived.


	2. Looking In

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She was being shadowed.

That very distinctive prickle on the back of her neck had been nagging her for a few days now. Whoever was following her was good. She had yet to mark them or triangulate their position. It was doubtful that it was Red Cell, though they had been more active within borders of late...nor was it likely the Collective; they just weren't this subtle. So who? Nikita asked herself. She hated being back in Section One. She felt exposed again. She would never have had to worry about this in Center. Damn Mr. Jones and damn Paul too.

"Damn them all!" She muttered under her breath.

She hadn't come this far, this close to the truth, to be beaten back. Her sacrifices over the last 3 years would not be in vain. If there was a person alive and she believed there was, who knew why she had been brought into Section, she would find them. She was getting close too. She could feel it. Almost getting blown to pieces a few nights ago wasn't an accident, nor was the tip that had put her there in the first place. Were they acts of the same party? Clearly there were those who didn't want her to find the truth.

But maybe there was someone out there who did. Did she have a brother? Sister? There were so many questions with such dangerous answers.

Could it be that the shadow she'd recently acquired was put in place by Center? Anything was possible with them but she couldn't let it slow her down. It was bad enough that she couldn't know her own father but this was something she just would not die without knowing. All the blood she had shed, the pain she had endured, the life she'd given up...if she was to be damned she wanted to know why. No, she _needed_ to know; she'd learned a long time ago not to want too much. They would answer to _her_ for once and then, maybe then, she would find a small measure of peace. Mr. Jones didn't seem to want to keep his promise to her but they owed her this. Maybe the old saying was true, that everyone did have a price. Maybe this was hers. If so, it was time for them to pay up.

Nikita looked over her shoulder once more before heading down the stairs of the rail station. It was the perfect place to hide something in plain sight, she thought...thinking back to her very first time away from Section and her surprise at their location. She pulled her arms in tighter, drawing her coat around her to keep out the chill that had just stolen over her. That memory still hurt, the first betrayal by Michael...but God how she missed him. It had taken every last ounce of inner strength she'd had that day on his supposed suicide mission to push him away. She couldn't think of any reason for him to stick around except for her so she'd done what she could take that reason away. She hadn't expected his reaction. It was so open, so emotional, so incredibly like him, to cut himself, to shed tears of blood instead of trying to use words. Michael had never really been a big talker but she understood him just the same. This was no exception. She understood perfectly.

She felt the weight of her own betrayal on her shoulders now. She had used an out of date terrorist account, which she knew would allow Section to find them...then the suicide mission. Least of all the years she had been undercover and had never told him. It was no wonder he had believed her that she didn't love him. She hadn't acted like a woman in love. But lord how she loved him. So many deceptions. They had both become such complete experts at it that it was amazing that they had ever been able to trust each other at all. And yet they did. Somehow they had cut out a path in their crazy existence and forged a bond that she knew she would never, could never, have with another person again. Nikita shook her head as if to shake off the surreality of it all. It was all gone. Michael was gone. Nothing she could do would change that now. They were destined to be apart and she was responsible. Even the knowledge that she hadn't had a choice didn't make her feel any better about it. It all hurt. It would always hurt. There were some truths that even the greatest deception couldn't hide.

But she would survive; it was who she was. She would continue to try and make changes for the better in Section and in the process find her own truths. It would have to be enough. She had lived with much less. Hopefully Michael was well on his way to finding Adam and they, at least, could live together, happily ever after.

She smiled at that thought. Her dreams were full of happily-ever-after endings...too bad reality never caught up with them. How many times had she seen herself standing at a white picket fence waving goodbye to Michael as he left for work only to wake up with her gun in her hand pointed at some new faceless enemy...She wasn't interested in playing the martyr, but if only one of them could be free, she was glad it was Michael. Adam needed him...and wasn't that the original principle of Section in the first place? Protect the innocent? Yes, she would continue to do what she could. Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodies? Madeline had taught her. Who will watch the watchmen? Sure. Someone had to guard the guards.

Her private smile had faded and the shadow across the way witnessed it, had seen the brief light turn dark. Michael wondered what Nikita was thinking about right then as the access doors slid shut in front of her.

"Notre jour est ici Nikita. Ne perds pas l'espoir. ..." Michael whispered to himself. It was time to put his carefully constructed plan into action.

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Translation from freetranslation dot com

"Our day is here Nikita. Do not lose hope."


	3. Smoke and Mirrors

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Note: There is a time/action passage between the last chapter and this one. The last chapter cuts off right before Nikita brings Michael back into Section after his suicide mission and this one begins after he had to leave again to rescue Adam from the hands of the Collective. If you haven't seen the episodes in between I apologize if it is confusing to you.

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PS. I just bought LFN Complete Season One and the deleted scenes are to die for!

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He absolutely hated to deceive her this way, hated himself for it, but he just couldn't think of another way to get to Mr. Jones. Michael cursed to himself. He went over the litany again: the Gelman Process, his resurrection, and his fall back into Section. Was it only a few days ago that they had been talking about white picket fences and cocker spaniels over dinner? They just wanted to be together. Why did it have to become so complicated? He sighed…at least he and Nikita always seemed to remain connected…

His mind flashed back to her ready room in Section.

"_I lied." She'd told him. _

_He'd known…oh how he had known. And he could still taste her on his lips. _

But he couldn't leave Adam in the hands of the Collective. He had run the scenarios and there were no other options.

Michael knew just how much Nikita had longed to find the truth behind her being brought to Section. It had led her down many paths and had finally to her father. Now he had to put that man's life in jeopardy.

He'd given up on prayer a long time ago but he prayed today. He'd gone to the same church where she had met him not long ago after he asked to come back to Section. It seemed…appropriate. He'd knelt in one of the side pews and lit a candle, asking whatever higher power there was beyond Jones to help Nikita find it in herself to forgive him for what he was about to do. And, he said to himself, with all the blood on his hands, he also prayed that someone was still listening.

He never got a chance to know her father, the elusive Mr. Jones. It was hard for him to understand how a man could put his own daughter through the brutality Jones visited upon Nikita. But he respected him. It was impossible not to, really, for a man like Michael. Everything within the man's reach. So much power. So much potential…

In their brief meetings he had felt that he had earned Jones' respect. Not just as an operative, but as a worthy match for Nikita…whether it fit in Mr. Jones plans or not.

No matter - all that would come to an end soon.

When he had first heard that Mr. Jones was Nikita's father he'd been shocked, which in itself surprised him, but he soon found himself wondering… Had it all been a plan from the beginning? Placing him as Nikita's mentor and trainer? Was Section so far-sighted that they could have predicted the love that would grow? Could they have factored the bonds Nikita and he would forge? Did they calculate the force they would become? And if they had known, did they go so far as to predict his next move? And if so, what did the future hold? Were they holding those cards as well, dealing them at will? Was he just playing out someone else's scenario, drawn up and filed years ago?

It was enough to make a person go insane. Their future would be their own regardless of how it might have begun…but right now Adam needed him. It was time for him to play injured. This, at least, was something he knew how to do, and he walked out the door to find Nikita.

-

Couples on benches. Kissing. It was the last thing Nikita wanted to see right now.

Yet another poignant reminder that she was alone again. She'd had no word from Michael and it didn't bode well for either he or Adam. It was one thing to be alone armed with the knowledge that he was out there somewhere. This she could live with; she had before. It was an entirely different monster to **not know**. Section was the king of gathering information. How was it possible for one small boy and a man to just simply fall off the face of the earth?

But then she thought back to when she had found Simone in that dark cell…just an accident really that she had cried out as Nikita was shown to her "new home" with Glass Curtain. 3 years Simone had been down there with no one looking for her, no trace that she was still alive. This was the world they lived in, this Section world…Nikita clenched and unclenched her fingers as the words came back like they always did.

"_The world thinks you're dead." _

In the end, it was truer than even they could have known.

She'd witnessed what the Collective would do to their own. She shuddered to think of how they would treat a child, much less the only child of Section One's most coveted operative. It gave them leverage that no amount of money or weapons could buy…Dammit Michael…why couldn't he have just let her help him? But she knew that answer, there were some things you just had to do alone. She refused to even think about his last request before he'd left. He would take care of his own son…no other ending was acceptable to her.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that when the arm snaked out to grab her from the side of the building she almost screamed.

"Michael!" She exclaimed. Then she noticed his hunched over posture and…was that blood?

_Forgive me Nikita, please forgive me, he thought to himself as he began to weave the tall tale to her that he'd decided on earlier._

"You're hurt." She whispered, glancing around.

Michael crouched down more into his body, holding his side as he slipped down the side of the building he pretended was supporting him. He knew he looked pained and desperate. It echoed how he felt inside and she needed to believe that she had to bring him in. The operative in Nikita had learned to be cautious but even he knew that she couldn't help herself when it came down to him being injured. And he knew better to than to kid himself that he was any different when it came to her; their greatest weaknesses indeed.

"You've got to bring me in…" he continued.

_If only it weren't Adam they held…if only..._


	4. Fate is a Four Letter Word

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Note: This takes into account the action between Nikita bringing Michael back into section, them leaving with her father and cuts to the end of the last episode of the series. I will be continuing the story in future chapters…

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**_The Bridge_**

The wind howled and lifted the snow from the rivers banks around them. Nikita's black coat stood high on her neck resting against the sides of her head. It should have protected her from the weather's cold bony reach but it did not. The chill was deep under her skin. I coursed through her veins, slowly freezing off the emotions that threatened to strangle her. And as they stood at the end of the bridge looking across at the Collective and Adam, she forced herself to quietly gather her strength for what was about to come.

She wanted to shout. She wanted to ask whatever sick director was filming this macabre scene to stop. She wanted to go back to a time when there were only questions. These answers were costing her too much. At one time she would never have believed this possible, but here she was, certain it was true. Certain that a piece of her was about to die…that piece that lived in Michael.

She hadn't been lying when she'd spoken to her father. There was no acceptable way for him to kill Michael. She would not be taking over for him someday. The mere thought of it disgusted her. This was happening only because the one thing that she would never deny Michael was the one opportunity he had to save his own son. Had they ever given him a choice in the blood cover with Elena? No. If there was one thing Nikita had learned over the years it was the fact that blood almost always had to be spilled to save blood. She'd always hoped, prayed, that it wouldn't be Michael's. What a fool she'd been…

The last few days had gone by in slow motion. One surreal moment followed another. When she had gotten Michael back to Section and into Medical, she would never have expected his betrayal. Oh yes, her father had seen it as a betrayal of her but in her heart she knew that Michael would never truly betray her. She had given him her trust. It had not been misplaced.

Her father was another matter entirely. He had told her to trust him but how could she? He was allowing the one person in the world that mattered more to her than him to die.

Trust? Impossible. They had started to form a bond…but, no, nothing would the same again.

Michael turned and looked at her. It was time.

His eyes were unafraid, an open book. She didn't expect them to say much to each other. Everything that had needed to be said, needed to be expressed, had been. Had been many times over. Theirs was not a romantic story that would culminate at the end. For them, it had always been about the journey.

She was thankful for that.

She just couldn't bring herself to remove her glasses. She was too afraid that the tears that threatened to spill over would begin and she would be unable to stop them. They wouldn't give the Collective any more leverage, not today.

"Goodbye Nikita."

"Goodbye Michael. Goodbye."

_He's so much stronger than me…even at the end, Nikita thought._

And then time stopped as her father stepped forward and spoke.

"I'm afraid there's one last complication..."

Michael and Nikita turned to face the man who had molded their past and listened as he revealed the fate of their futures.

"It is not you they want…"

Nikita couldn't move as she listened. No, it wasn't possible. It wasn't fair. And yet even as all the ramifications of this final twist ran through her mind she felt her hand move out, palm open. If it would save Michael…if he could raise Adam…they could get her father away from the Collective, couldn't they?

"Yes."

Mr. Jones allowed himself a small sad smile. All the years of watching his daughter become the Nikita he knew her to be. All the memories that normal families had to keep them warm at times like these; memories that they were never allowed to make. All the pain and suffering that he had inflicted on her. All the moves he had ever made came down to this one moment in time. V.A.T.O.S had predicted it…all of it.

His only wish was that they would have had more time. More time to just be together, make up for lost time…alas, it was not to be. Section would flourish under Nikita's gentle but firm hand. He didn't need a computer to tell him that. He couldn't have been more proud.

"Always trust your father." He told her one last time, trying to make her see.

He had meant every word. She _had_ been born for this. There was no one else to do what needed to be done.

He was glad that he'd erased certain portions of V.A.T.O.S. predictions. No need for Nikita to stumble inadvertently upon what would come to be in the future. Some things were better left to the possibility of chance. Not everything was written completely in stone, although he had a feeling that most of it would follow its' pre-destined path. Hadn't it so far?

Mr. Jones looked down the road at Adam. Yes, he had made the right decision in choosing this current course of action. Just a temporary delay in the big scheme of things, he thought, as he began to walk. Someday Nikita might even forgive him…

-

**_The Train Station_**

Nikita looked into his eyes as they held each other. He knew the weight of the world was on her shoulders and true to herself she was looking out for Adam and he. No wonder he loved her so. Funny, he'd always thought it would be him left behind to save the world…but all that had changed yesterday on the bridge.

"I love you." She whispered, holding his gaze.

Michael found that his mind was surprisingly silent. He wasn't going back over all the memories, trying to grasp them all at once. This wasn't how he'd ever expected it to play out. Everything was new and unpredictable.

He wasn't an operative anymore. He was just Adam's father. It felt…strange.

What did one do in the normal world? He didn't know anymore. He knew that he would soon find out but it hurt him more than he could ever express that he wouldn't be discovering what lay ahead with Nikita. Maybe someday, he thought.

"I love you." He whispered, breathy and soft against her ear. He felt her breath catch.

He memorized her face as they stood face to face, touching in places beyond words.

"There will be a time when Adam won't need me anymore." He told her.

"You know where I'll be." She replied.

Finally, they were free from the lies, Michael thought. Someday Nikita, someday…he promised himself as he took Adams hand. But how many times had he said those same words?

-

**_The Perch_**

She stood overlooking the action below, present yet removed.

She'd never realized how lonely it was up here. Always before there was the possibility that Michael would come around the next corner or up the stairs and through the door. That possibility had been removed. Not even the small comfort of her father's presence was possible anymore. What was possible besides the next threat of terror she wondered?

Maybe it wasn't so much that _here _was lonely, she thought…rather that she was lonely. It felt so very different then just being alone.

Michael and Adam were time zones away by now, just where she did not know. They hadn't talked about maintaining some sort of contact. Both of them knew just how dangerous that could be. He no longer had his tracker thanks to medical. They couldn't take the chance that someone would figure out how to use it. If Michael could, she was sure he would contact her. Time would tell.

She hadn't even been able to bury her father. His people had just scooped up his body and told her it would be handled. Then they had handed her a disk with his pre-recorded message. She hadn't been able to listen to it yet…everything was still too raw, too new.

Tired, she was so tired. However she stood resolutely.

She was Operations now, watching over a world that didn't sleep.

-

_**In another continent a small green light blinked, a button was pushed and a voice spoke.**_

"_**How is she?"**_


	5. Of Mortals and Gods

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Note: This is post the Season Five end of series…everything from here on out is strictly from my own imagination…

**_Three months later - San Francisco, CA_**

Adam was finally asleep in his new bed, his hand bunched up under his cheek. Michael watched him, still unable to believe that they were here, that they were free. He had checked the doors and windows twice and restrained himself from checking again. It was hard to get used to not having all of Section's resources. The perimeter of their small house in the suburbs would have to be kept secure by sheer will, his.

He let himself out of Adam's room quietly and padded barefoot to the living room, surveying his surroundings. The house was nice enough. Certainly nothing like what he could have afforded in the countryside somewhere in Europe…that was where he'd rather be living but that would have been the first place any former enemies would look for him. That would have been predictable. This was not. No one would think that he would move to one of the most densely populated cities in the United States. He could hardly believe it himself. It was for Adam that he made the sacrifice. At least the nearby coast kept the air a little cleaner and imparted that salty smell that reminded him of his summers as a young boy in the south of France.

Over the years at Section he'd been able to amass what amounted to a small fortune it seemed and it made this large change possible. An operative didn't need much that they weren't given or accounted for and well, terrorists, especially the dead ones, couldn't really complain if you cleaned out their existing assets. Michael was thankful now that he had allowed himself that small indiscretion. He'd had no idea just how expensive living a regular existence could be and he was happy that Adam would not suffer due to any shortsightedness on his part.

But…he was lonely and a bit bored, if he admitted it. Soon it would be time for him to look for something to occupy his days while Adam was at school. They'd planted a garden in their backyard over the weekend and that had been fun and novel. Then they had picked out paint colors for the interior rooms. Adam had chosen fire engine red for his. So be it. Michael had chosen a pale rich grey for his…Nikita would have smiled at that. Shades of grey…one more thing to remember her by.

He put his feet up on the wood coffee table and sighed. He missed her so much. It seemed impossible not to think of her, not that he wanted her image to fade…quite the contrary…but the constant dull ache was what kept his smile from reaching his eyes. Adam had started noticing it recently.

"Why do you look sad daddy?" he'd ask him in that innocent little voice.

He'd have to work on that. It wasn't fair after all the boy had been through that he be trying to counsel his own father. He needed to keep his promise to Nikita to help Adam forget the horrors he had seen. Nikita, Nikita, Nikita. But Michael wondered, without her around, who would help _him_ forget?

He ran his hand through his hair, now cut short again and slightly streaked. His fingers then moved to his face and ran over the goatee he'd grown as additional cover. He hated it. Adam hated it. Nikita would surely hate it. So much for normal. He hated that most of all.

What was Nikita doing now? It was early in the morning at Section already. Was she in the perch? Eating breakfast in the tower? Laughing with Walter? Making love to someone new?

Michael reached for the glass of wine he'd poured earlier, cursing himself. Nikita was the most loyal person he had ever known. That last thought was utterly unfair and unprovoked…but eventually he'd have to face that fact that she might need someone. Such passion like hers needed an outlet. He knew this; they were similar animals.

He took a sip of the Bordeaux that tasted like the first home he'd had, that is until Nikita had come along.

No, he would not search for an outlet that would only leave him disappointed and wanting what he could not have. There were no more Valentine missions and he would not betray their love. If he knew Nikita, she was thinking very similar thoughts, far away on the other side of the world. The image of her lithe form writhing on the soft white sheets they used to sleep under, hair falling around her face and shoulders unwittingly came to mind.

Michael took another sip then set his glass down on the table again. This kind of thinking would only lead to more frustration. He closed his eyes, ignoring the tightening in the crotch of his jeans.

"I love you Nikita." Michael whispered to no one.

There were no more hidden ears to keep him from speaking out loud.

**_Walter's station at Section_**

The green light on his console was blinking in short precise cycles. Morse code. Walter shook his head. _This_ was his idea of secure? Walter had told him that voice contact was a death wish…in his opinion this wasn't much better.

"Stupid." he muttered under his breath. Any fool could see the message and figure it out quickly…of course it was so simple and generic that if they didn't know what it meant then it would just mean nothing. He knew different obviously but that was the point. This place really would be the death of him someday. He was getting too old for all this covert crap.

More green blinks. The real message embedded, hidden amongst strings of randomly generated code. He translated the cycle effortlessly in his head. Osiris. How fitting Walter thought…the great God of the dead. Was it sick humor or coincidence? But he scolded his romantic self for entertaining the question. In their world there was no such thing as a coincidence.

"Guess _someone_ wants another update." Walter muttered, wondering how he'd been suckered into all this. Easy answer buddy, he told himself. Nikita. Everything always came back to her it seemed. She might just kill him if she knew this little gem of information though. It was his responsibility that she not find out. Well at least not yet, not until _he _said it was ok. Walter was going to make damn sure that he was out of firing range when that happened.

Right now it seemed that they were all just in a holding pattern. He felt so badly for his Sugar. He watched her slowly turning inward, afraid to let even the most benign emotions bubble up too much. He understood her motives. Sometimes you had to batten down the hatches or the whole ship would sink.

There was no way that he would let that or anything else happen to her.

According to Osiris, she was going to be just fine. He had assured Walter that certain things would come to pass that would heal most of the wounds of the past. Well Walter had never put much faith in anything except what he could see with his own eyes and right now as he looked up at the perch and watched Nikita with her back stiff and her eyes shadowed, he worried that those things Osiris spoke of wouldn't come fast enough.

The green blinks turned into a solid light. Time for him to send his return message.

_**Lotus secure but not happy. END.**_

_**Repeat, not happy. END.**_

_**Did you get that? NOT HAPPY. END.**_

_**You'd better be right about everything. END.**_

_**5 live missions, 3 sectors. END.**_

_**99.92 success rate. END.**_

_**Fatalities down 12.7. END.**_

_**Too damn good. END.**_

_**No contact from Papyrus. Yet. END.**_

Walter clicked send and watched as the program Birkoff had written back when he was alive randomly inserted his real responses between jumbled garbage. He figured that Osiris had probably wanted more information but that was just TOO bad. If he wanted details that desperately, he could damn well come get them himself!

Come on Michael, Walter thought silently, where are you? Throw her a lifeline, something…anything…


	6. Sacred Totems and Secrets

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* * *

_**The Tower**_

Had it really already been 3 months? Nikita found it hard to believe. It all just seemed like it happened yesterday, the wounds still open and fresh. 3 months since she had looked into Michael's eyes. 3 months since she had watched her father gunned down by the Collective. 3 months since she had _become_ Operations. 3 months since she had been outside Section, since she had seen the sunshine.

Nikita cringed.

She knew her current state of mind was unhealthy and that she needed to reengage, not only with herself but the world around her…the people around her. But she didn't know how. There was no instruction manual on how to deal with the surprising weight that had fallen on her shoulders since the day she was handed those keys. There should have been a warning label attached, something. _Handle with care, owners tend to lose their minds._

She laughed.

This was what she had to resort to, her own sick inside jokes. It really wasn't very funny.

Walter had explained, in that fatherly (as opposed to flirtatious) voice he adopted when necessary, that she was grieving. Grieving for her father. Grieving for Michael, because even though he was alive they were apart. And worst of all, grieving for herself. She understood now what her father had meant when he had said that one day she would see that there was no other option. Oh yes, she saw alright. He had made sure of that. Any fantasies that she had entertained about one day being free from Section were gone. Replaced by what, she had yet to discover. Maybe that was the worst part, she thought, not having any options.

She just didn't know.

But Walter had also told her that she would get over it, that life would go on, no matter how much she couldn't fathom it right now.

She crossed her arms around herself protectively.

Maybe he was right though…this morning she'd gone to her closet looking for something other than black to wear only to come up empty-handed. Of course she hadn't done anything about it, so here she sat in what had become her uniform: tailored black jacket and skirt. Madeline was smiling that Mona Lisa smile wherever she was, this Nikita did know. Oh sure it was extremely stylish and made of an incredible fabric, hugging all of her thin curves but this morning she had _actually_ looked at it. She had actually crinkled her nose at it, wanting something a little more lively.

That had to be good right?

She vaguely remembered pulling every item out and telling Michelle to get rid of it all and purchase her 10 identical black suits.

Michelle. It had surprised her when after her father's death Michelle had just shown up at Section with two large bags and asked to live there with her. As it turned out they were half-sisters, another one of her father's little omissions; Michelle was the product of another one of his liaisons. They didn't really know each other and their encounters when Nikita had been at his house had been less than brief, but it was clear that she felt her only home now was with Nikita. Nikita just didn't have the heart to turn her away. Where else could she know that Michelle would be safe? After all, she was the only family she had left. It was all crazy and surreal but she had to admit that she liked having someone around, even if she'd barely spoken to her.

She sighed. She needed to remedy that.

It was also time for her to listen to her father's disc. She had begun getting communications from V.A.T.O.S. telling her _things. _She needed more information. Information that she was betting was on that disc.

She picked it up and put it in her console, turning to the screen in front of her. Her first thought was…he looks so alive.

_"**My dear Nikita, if you are watching this then I am gone. V.A.T.O.S had predicted that the Collective did not want me alive. It would seem that he was correct as usual. Again, I'm sorry for that whole charade at the bridge. I wish I could have told you before. I wish there would have been more time for a lot of things. That I wish most of all…but wishing is for those that have the luxury of it…and you and I, my dear, sadly, do not fall in that category. I imagine some time has passed. If I were in your shoes it would have been too painful to watch this at first. I know what you're thinking…how did I know this? It would seem that those sacred totems you so boldly condemned do know a thing or two."**_

Nikita allowed herself a small smile, ignoring the tear that trailed a path down her cheek.

_"**But enough sentimentality, there is work to do. I think that I can safely assume that V.A.T.O.S. has begun contacting you. I had a delay put in place to give you time to grieve. I'm sure you set Michael and Adam free and I can only imagine the heartache that has caused you. For this I am deeply sorry, but some paths like ours must be followed and I know you made the right choice. Now, like I said, it is time to get down to business. V.AT.O.S. is just doing his job you see and you need to understand how it all works. Michelle can help you with the core of it; she helped me to sort the messages, catalog them and prioritize. Yes, yes, I know you're probably angry with me for not telling you that she was your half-sister but I'm sure you understand my reasons now. Things were all coming to a head at the time and I couldn't have you distracted. Now that you are done grieving I'm sure you'll find time to get to know her."**_

God, Nikita thought, did the man know everything?

_"**I have put together my own kind of Section bible if you will. She knows where to find it and it should answer most of your pressing questions. Listen and heed V.A.T.O.S predictions and advice my dear girl. He has saved my life…and yours…more than once. You have made your father proud, more proud than even I could have ever imagined. You truly are a savior, in more ways than one, and you should know that you have saved this old man's soul. There isn't enough darkness in the world to black out the light that you provide to those around you. This is your fate my dear Nikita, your destiny; we all have one and this was mine. Good things will come to pass I promise. Remember what I said: always trust your father. I love you Nikita. I always have."**_

Nikita was sobbing uncontrollably when she felt the arm go around her shoulders. She held her hands to her wet face, her body shaking, and allowed herself to yield to Michelle's small arms enveloping her. She let the tears that she'd been holding for months fall…and fall…and fall.

"It's alright Nikita. Everything will be alright." Michelle whispered as she held her sister.


	7. The Simple Life?

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I'm always happy to see new reviewers so thanks! I know I'm taking my time updating but I want to make sure I go on a path that makes me happy with the story and I've been going back and forth on a few things. Please, please R&R, I want the feedback. Thanks!

* * *

_**Monday - A few weeks later – San Francisco**_

Michael was enjoying his morning run along the Marina after dropping Adam at school when he saw the sign.

"Construction help needed"

He stopped and walked over to the enormous gated off area. It was hard to tell what they were actually building yet. So far it was just a metal shell of steel beams and bolts.

He almost laughed at the thought of himself doing construction work, not because he deemed it below him, but because it was such a change from fighting terrorists. It certainly wouldn't help keep his mental skills in shape, but he _was _feeling incredibly restless and was determined to keep his body in top shape, so from that perspective he supposed it wasn't a bad idea. From what he knew they also didn't ask a lot of questions in that kind of work, nor care about your life outside work. That suited him just fine. If they could be flexible with the hours so he could always be there for Adam, maybe it was a decent temporary fix. It would keep him out of the public eye and give him a good workout.

Michael looked down at his watch. He had 2 hours to kill before he had to be at Adam's school. That should be enough time, he thought, as he jogged over to what looked like the Foreman's office.

If Nikita could see him now, he thought and smiled sadly. Not quite tactical mission planning. Even as the operative in him took in the details of the workers and the site around him, the man in him was left wondering. If he saw Nikita now, could she accept him the way his life was? So simple, so lacking intrigue, so incredibly unlike Section…or even more important and poignant, could he accept himself?

As he opened the door to the office he wished he felt sure about his answer.

_**Friday – San Francisco**_

"Daddy, Daddy!" Adam squealed and launched himself into Michael's arms.

"Adam!" Michael responded with the same enthusiasm as he lifted his son and twirled him around in the air. These were the moments Michael loved. This was what he had been missing in Section.

Here he was at Back to School night for his son…it was amazing he thought, as he looked around the classroom at the kids' art on the walls and the beaming parents. Even when he and Elena had been married, he had seemed to be inadvertently gone for these important moments in Adam's life. He'd always had a hunch that it had been Madeline's doing, keeping him on edge, keeping him from getting too attached. He couldn't fault the woman when it came to her ability to dissect situations. Well no more and he was as excited as the kids around him.

"Look at this Daddy, this is my table…and look here, this is my drawing of our family. Here's you and here's Momma even though she's in heaven now and here's Nikita and…"

Adam rambled on, his chubby fingers pointing as he went.

Michael hated to but he had to interrupt him. It was hard enough that Adam had put Nikita in, which tore at Michael's heart, but it was also dangerous. Dangerous for all of them. It was next to impossible for a 5 year old to understand that sometimes you had to pretend that some things weren't real, like some of the people you loved. Michael sighed, the simple life indeed.

"That's wonderful Adam…what is this over here? Is this a picture of everyone in your class?" Michael asked innocently, leading his son away from the damning scrawled picture.

He felt the eyes on him, female eyes, perusing his body with more than a passing interest. However, it didn't peak _his_ interest except that there was a good chance that those same eyes had just witnessed the exchange with the picture. Once an operative, always an operative, not even a glance could be ignored and this was no exception.

It seemed however that Michael wouldn't have to look far.

"So you're Adam's father." A female voice spoke.

Michael turned, extending his hand automatically, as Adam pulled on his other hand.

"Come on Daddy, over here."

"I'll be there in a minute Adam, stay where I can see you please."

"Michael Samuelle." He offered, clasping her cool slender hand briefly, taking note of the long red manicured nails.

He immediately formed his assessment. She was just like all the other typical upper crust local women he'd encountered and entirely not his type. Medium height, fit slim body from walking around the city, dull dark blue eyes and long brunette hair held back in a ponytail. Tailored clothing, not too revealing but clearly expensive, as was the Rolex on her wrist. And no wedding ring on her left finger, not what he wanted to see. The last thing he needed was a woman in Adam's class pursuing him.

"Julie Nordstrom. I've been looking forward to meeting you. Adam is a wonderful boy."

She told him, moving in and angling her body so that they were just a little too close for Michael's comfort. He immediately moved just enough to make a point but using the ruse of looking for Adam to make it polite.

She only smiled.

"So you're French?" She asked.

"Yes." Michael replied, blank stare in place, standing with his legs apart and both hands now behind his back.

"And Adam tells me that you're a widow, recently moved to the city. I'm sorry for your loss. That must be hard on both of you. My husband passed away last year, heart attack, so I know how it is. Jenny hasn't been handling it that well and I think talking with Adam has helped. Jenny's my daughter, she's in Adam's class." She continued, pointing to a small girl with dark blonde pigtails across the room.

Michael shifted his weight. What did one do in this situation? It wasn't Adam's fault that he had shared this information but for the woman to be using it as a way to open up a conversation was just too much. It would seem that even outside of Section he couldn't escape some form or other of deception. Were regular men so easy to manipulate? Couldn't she tell that he wasn't interested?

"I'm sorry for you and your daughter. I'm going to go be with Adam now." He told her simply.

"Oh well, ok…would you like to have coffee or something sometime?" She added, sounding like she had forced herself to seem casual about it.

"I don't date." He replied before he could even think about it. .

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, clearly taken aback at his bluntness.

"Oh well, ok, I understand. I know it takes time to get over things like this. I'm sorry. Enjoy your evening. It was nice meeting you." She told him, just a little too lightly.

Michael cringed inwardly. He hadn't meant to be rude…it's just that she clearly didn't know anything. She didn't understand at all. He didn't want to get over it. He never would. Nor would he choose to spend a moment of his precious freedom over coffee with a woman that could never know where he had been. No…she didn't understand anything at all.

"No reason to be sorry. Goodbye." He told her and moved over to the other side of the room to where Adam was.

Well now that is a man of few words, Julie thought. She'd seen him on more than one occasion when he picked up Adam. He was incredibly good-looking and seemed totally unaware of it…those eyes…and that accent! She had just had to meet him tonight.

There was something about him though. He was always glancing around, with an almost wary look in his eye. And back at Adam's table he hadn't wanted the boy to continue to talk about his family portrait…she was almost sure of it. She had a nose for those things.

So he didn't date did he? She could change that. Oh yes…she could change that, she thought as she watched the way his jeans molded to the curve of one perfect male behind. And they had so much in common, it would be a shame for them not to become better acquainted. Julie smiled and walked over to where Jenny was waving at her from.

There were a lot of school events coming up and from what she could tell, he would want to be involved, so there was no telling just how soon they might meet again.


	8. A Needle in a Haystack

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This chapter had been a part of the last one but it was just too long so enjoy the quick update! Reviews, ideas and constructive criticism make the world go round (ok, so chocolate too, ha ) so please, please give me your thoughts.

* * *

**_Section One, Nikita's private quarters_**

"What do you **mean** V.A.T.O.S' predictions and calculations can relate to people or events outside of Section?" Nikita demanded of Michelle.

Michelle took a step back and regarded Nikita for a few moments. She understood why Nikita was angry. She even understood that it wasn't directed at her. But sadly, she was the only one who could prepare Nikita for what was to come.

"Just what I said. Surely you didn't think a computer this intelligent, this sophisticated would limit itself to Section? However, it can't scan the entire known world's information entry points. Generally we've found that the more vague messages relate to people somehow connected to Section. Predictions of this nature for a member of the unknown public at large would be statistically quite improbable." Michelle replied calmly, hoping it would rub off on her sister.

Nikita's brows furrowed together. She sounds like our father, Nikita thought, so willing and able to just accept this as truth…when Nikita still couldn't bring herself to put her faith in that damn machine. Oh yes, it had saved many missions so far and weeded out some awfully nasty characters, but those were based on existing information, cycles and calculations that the machine could, quite frankly, just do faster than they could. No, she wasn't ready yet to turn her faith over to cryptic messages and terabytes.

"This is your heart speaking Nikita. This has nothing to do with Section. Please don't be angry at me for speaking the truth." Michelle said.

Nikita looked down at her PDA scanning the brief message she'd received from V.A.T.O.S. this morning.

**--Man and child killed with 6 others in random shooting at museum--**

A sense of dread had slowly began to creep up on her over the last few hours as the implications of the message sank in…until she had just had to get another opinion. What if it meant Michael and Adam? And why would V.A.T.O.S. separate out the man and child in the message from the others killed unless it meant something? It couldn't possibly be referring to them...could it? No!

And yet, Nikita couldn't bring herself to delete the message as she normally might…she got vague small clips of information all the time now, not everything could be followed up on. It didn't even specify any sort of location or time frame. It was quite frankly, useless information…if she didn't count the fact that it made goose bumps rise up on her arms and a heavy sensation settle over her heart.

But even as Nikita hoped and wished that her mind was just fabricating the possibilities, she knew, that in this Section life she'd come to understand, when her instinct spoke to her, it was usually right.

"Let it go Nikita." Michelle said quietly. This was one time when she knew that there was nothing anything or anyone could do to shift the tides and she'd promised their father that she would do what she could to smooth the path.

Nikita looked at her sister, looking for what she didn't know.

Let it go? She'd already had to let everything go. Couldn't she see that she didn't have anything left except _not_ letting it go?

She turned her back on an un-smiling Michelle and spoke. "Tell Jason I want to see him. Alone."

Michelle sighed and replied. "Alright Nikita…but I don't think you're going to find peace of mind down this path. You knew how it had to be when you let them go."

Biting her lip, Nikita forced herself not to lash out. It wasn't Michelle's fault that she was partly right but Nikita really wished she would just keep those little insightful gems to herself.

There wasn't anyone who knew her demons more than she. Peace was the last thing she expected or wanted to gain by her actions. Peace would give her too much time to worry, too much space to think. Peace would throw her back to the place she'd been a few weeks ago and she definitely didn't want to be back there.

Nikita heard the door click shut and let out the breath she'd been holding, flexing her hands. Her fingers had been gripping tightly on the edges of her white leather pencil skirt, leaving small indents where her nails had been. She wondered if the marks would be permanent, if the leather would rebel and slowly, gradually, expand back out to fill them. And she marveled at how even the smallest of details could suddenly become incredibly important.

"Everything leaves its' mark…" She whispered aloud.

Now if only she could use that very same idea to help her find Michael and Adam before it was too late.

There had to be some way that Jason could filter the entry points, some way for him to narrow the search field or to look for a signature, some kind of mark associated with that message. He'd have to make sure that it wouldn't jeopardize Section business of course…and try to keep it under the radar if it possible. She knew it was breaking the rules just as she knew that Oversight would want her head if they found out.

"Well when haven't they!" She retorted to the empty room and continued to plot while waiting for Jason.

**_Walter's Station_**

He returned from the field to find an urgent waiting message from Osiris.

"What does he want now?" Walter wondered.

He was sick of being the middleman

**_I need access to V.A.T.O.S._ END.**

Oh no you don't, thought Walter. Things were messed up enough as is. Maybe this most recent message from the holier than thou machine was just what the doctor ordered. So far his Sugar had done more in the last 24 hours than she had in the last 3 months. From his point of view that was better than good! No way in hell that he was going to let Mr. Sneaky get his hands in there again any time soon. If he really needed access, he could damn well come and get it.

They could all use one less ghost in the closet.


	9. Just Out of Reach

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

Thanks for reviewing! No worries Josephine-One, just didn't want you to miss this stories updates :P. Now that NCIS has killed off one of the main characters in my other fan fiction, I should be updating this story more frequently. Some gruesome stuff is coming up in future chapters but I'll try and rate appropriately.

Keep the reviews coming!

* * *

_**Somewhere in the Caribbean**_

Walter was stonewalling him and he knew damn well why. Somehow V.A.T.O.S had gotten a hold of one of the pieces of information again that he had erased with very good reason. Where had it come from and why hadn't Michelle intercepted it before Nikita had a chance to see it?

He tapped his cane against the leg of the table. None of this was going as planned. It just didn't make sense. Was Michelle turning against him? Had Nikita gotten to her too? He hated being this far removed from it all.

Of course he could always have someone hack in since he knew all the codes. But if he knew Nikita, she would have had them changed…and then that would alert Section. He couldn't have that happen, at least not yet.

He would have Walter's hide for this. He should have known that the old man wouldn't do anything to hurt Nikita, including keeping information from her about Michael and Adam. Was there anyone she couldn't charm? If only he'd been able to use her as a Valentine Op more often but even _he _had some scruples and he was sure that Michael would not have stood still for it.

He rubbed his chest. It still hurt where the bullets had impacted the body vest he'd been wearing that day on the bridge. Months later and it still hurt. All the technology in the world and still the pain; ah well, it was a reminder, his penance of a sort for the charade within a charade.

But what to do, what to do…the current situation was completely intolerable. Couldn't Nikita see that each shift in momentum was critical? One small seemingly insignificant change could risk everything.

"Dammit! I will not be locked out of my own creation." He yelled, smashing his cane against the wall and then slumping his shoulders back into the chair.

Anger would get him nowhere. He was probably worrying over nothing anyway. It wasn't as if the message that V.A.T.O.S had given her had any information to go on with the exception of the museum mention. There were hundreds of thousands of museums all over the world…and even more men and little boys, he thought to himself.

No, Nikita wouldn't be able to change the future. Not like he had. He really did wish it could be different but after all he had seen come to pass, he had little hope.

Sometimes it was better for people to be dead than just out of reach. As he stood up, leaning against the cane for support, he was sure this would be the case with Michael and Adam.

**_Back at Section_**

Nikita rubbed her eyes, blurry from the lack of sleep and constant focus on the monitors surrounding her. She had been scouring the data for a week now and still no luck.

Was she already too late?

There was no way to tell. It wasn't as if V.A.T.O.S. sent out confirmation notices.

She would feel something wouldn't she? Surely there would be some sign in her life, some way of knowing, that the chance to ever see them again was truly gone.

God she was tired, even Walter had commented on the dark circles beneath her eyes. The constant scanning of the high-speed monitors was killing her. She was certain that when it was all over she would need glasses. When it was all over…how would she even know when this was?

It was maddening actually. All the tiny scraps of information flying across screens, hardly recognizable as anything at all…but she would see it, she had to believe that if the mark was there, she would find it. The computer was already filtering the terabytes of data for her thanks to Jason's help, but the sheer mass volume of data was still staggering

Red shirt. Black car. Grey concrete. Green trees. Silver hair. Orange cones. Blue sky.

This was how she spent every spare moment of her time when the terrorists weren't calling her back to duty. When was the last time she had slept? She couldn't remember.

Her fingers reached out and touched one of the screens as her eyes fluttered closed briefly.

For a moment she imagined that she was back on the train, holding the PDA that Michael had given her right before the mission meant to kill her off. She could still feel the weight of it in her hand as his messages went unanswered. Only now did she know how he had felt then…and she cringed with the knowledge.

Are you out there Michael? She whispered to the darkness.


	10. Walking Wounded

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where 

Thanks so much for the fast and kind reviews! Meredith44, thanks for the long and detailed review, I appreciate it and I'm glad you read this story even though it's not NCIS. I have to admit that I have no idea what you meant by "OOCness". Also, I'm using the f-word in this chapter, so hope it doesn't offend anyone.

Keep the reviews coming!

* * *

**_San Francisco –Three weeks later_**

"Michael, it's Julie."

Michael held the phone away from his ear, displeased. Not Julie Nordstrom, just Julie, like he should just know by her voice.

She was persistent; he'd give her that. So far he'd had four phone calls this week and it was only Tuesday. Maybe he needed to start screening the calls. But what would that fix? The calls were always about Adam and school and the next thing that she wanted his help on. He knew that she wasn't the only one making these types of calls and yet she was always the one to call him. Some motives didn't take any training to recognize.

"Yes?" It was neither a question nor an invitation.

"I was wondering if you would be able to chaperone the science museum trip next week? It's on Wednesday." She told him matter-of-factly, leaving out the fact that she was going as well.

"Of course. What time do I need to be at the school?" He was already picturing Adam's face as he looked at the dinosaur exhibits. Adam loved dinosaurs.

"The bus will be leaving at 9:30 so I think 9:00 should be fine. We'll be doing a sack lunch with the kids in the large atrium in the middle, so don't forget to bring something for yourself." She told him. He couldn't very well back out now, just because she would be going she thought. A whole day with Michael, she couldn't wait.

We. She was a sneaky one, Michael thought, but he still would have accepted. The benefits of having the opportunity to share that experience with Adam far outweighed the annoyance of her presence.

"I'll be there." He replied.

"So how are things going Michael?" Julie asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

"Things are fine. Thanks Julie. Have a nice evening."

Michael spoke in a tone that told Julie her hope was useless. Oh well, she thought, he can't _not _speak to me the entire day at the museum.

"Ok, good, then see you next Wednesday. Goodnight Michael."

There was the soft click of the disconnection but it barely registered with him. He was already thousands of miles away.

He looked down at his watch. It was very nearly morning where Nikita was. What he would give to be with her right now. He looked around the kitchen, stopping at the refrigerator. He smiled, picturing her opening it and then drinking directly from the milk carton. She was always so free…it was one of the first things he loved about her.

Not anymore, he thought sadly, wondering as he always did how she was coping. She's the least free of any of us. It was strange though because he didn't feel free at all. He felt trapped between worlds, belonging in neither anymore. If Nikita was here with them then he might feel free…always looking over their shoulders, but free.

The sound of her voice still echoed in his head, the way she put a soft accent on the "c" in his name. He remembered them joking one night in bed that he should change the spelling of his name to "Micole" because that was the way it sounded coming off her lips.

Memories. He had nothing left of her but memories.

He walked over to the fridge, took out the milk carton and took a long healthy drink, refusing to look at the missing teen's picture on it.

He knew all too well where the missing went.

**_Back at Section, the training area_**

The black bag swung in the air as her foot connected with it again.

She had been pounding the bag for almost an hour, trying to dispel the anger that seethed within her.

What the hell did he expect from her? She wasn't an operative. She couldn't be everywhere. She couldn't have anticipated that V.A.T.O.S. would fuck up.

Dammit! She cursed to herself, spinning around, delivering yet another vicious roundhouse kick to the bag.

And anyway, she certainly didn't want to do anything that would make Nikita wary of her. She was wary of enough already!

She pummeled the bag with her gloved hands, ignoring the sweat running down her forehead and into her eyes, burning.

He depended on **_her_** now. He would just have to deal with it unless he wanted to miraculously come back from the dead. Not quite ready for that. Too many things had yet to play out.

Mistakes happen, she told herself, launching into a flying sidekick, but she could already hear his voice admonishing her…

_Mistakes happen to ordinary people Michelle, not to us._

She let out a small cry as she felt the blister on the bottom of her foot split open, the warm air like acid to the raw flesh.

"Mistake number 2…" She scolded herself out loud, disgusted with the weakness of her body. Always be able to stand on your own two feet. She winced as she limped over to her towel.

She was tired of being the quiet and nice but slightly imperfect daughter.

It was time for that to change.


	11. Cracks in the Pavement

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

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Thanks again for the detailed reviews and the new reviewers! Thanks Meredith, I suppose that they may seem slightly OOC. They are encountering completely new roles/situations. I'm trying to keep them as they are but growing into their new lives. Give me more thoughts going forward.

Keep the reviews coming!

* * *

**_Saturday – Section, Briefing Table_**

Michelle sat at the end of the table next to Walter with her arms crossed.

The profile was flawed.

Nikita had to know it and worse yet, she had to know that Michelle knew. This would never have happened before she had received that damning message from V.A.T.O.S…never! She was diverting resources for personal reasons and sending teams in short. Michelle could hardly believe it. Their father must be beside himself.

She could already see the message that he would have waiting for her…well he would have to eat his words if she had already taken care of it.

But how should she handle it?

The old Michelle would wait until after the briefing was over and speak privately with Nikita. But then again the old Michelle made mistakes too. However…she had to play this right. No one would doubt Nikita's motives…they might not even care if it was to save Michael and Adam…but Oversight would care.

It wouldn't do for them to remove Nikita. Michelle certainly didn't want _that_ responsibility but she did want to be more than the woman behind the woman. She wanted, no deserved, respect. Bringing mistakes of Nikita's like this to light might help the others see that she too was Mr. Jones daughter and not to be ignored.

Nikita stole another glance at Michelle, hating the feeling of unease that had been slowly manifesting itself since she had begun the briefing. Something was up; she knew that particular prickle.

A hand went up from one of the younger recruits at the other end of the table.

"Yes Nick?" Nikita asked, her voice edgy and her hands moving to the edges of the table so she could lean in towards him.

"Operations," He cleared his voice and then continued, "I believe the profile of teams seems a bit slim."

Michelle jerked her head around to the other end of the table. _Who _was that? How dare he steal her thunder!

Nikita held back her small smile. He had balls to confront her like this at the briefing table. She knew there was something she liked about him, remembering her own moments of boldness, but she had no choice but to push back a little.

"Oh really Nick, would you mind telling me just WHY you think that and why you felt the need to interrupt me?" Nikita demanded.

She could play Operations when she had to. She'd learned from the best…or worst depending where you stood.

Nick visibly swallowed. He'd never been the target of Operations wrath and didn't wish to be now. He had heard though that she was usually fair and open to discussion when the situation called for it.

"If you look at the profile…" He stood, pointing to the 3D visual model in front of them, "here and here. There are clear points of entry for hostiles that we can't cover with a team of 6. I believe an additional 4 man team would fill in the gap." He finished and sat down again, praying he hadn't just bought a one-way ticket to abeyance.

Nikita saw the barely contained aggravation on Michelle's face. So she had planned to bring up the flaw in the profile too, Nikita thought. Interesting. That was the prickle she'd been feeling.

She moved back from the table, hands behind her, not realizing that she had adopted Michael's habitual stance. Not one more variable she thought, especially not her own sister. Something was shifting in their relationship but why? She would have to speak with her later.

Nikita turned her attention back to the visual. Nick was quite right. She'd profiled it slim purposefully.

She still believed that the top notch team she'd selected could have gotten the job done but the safer bet, the V.A.T.O.S. bet, was what Nick had suggested. But she was sick of V.A.T.O.S. and NOT following its suggestions gave her immense satisfaction. She knew it was childish just as she knew that now was not the time to get sloppy. She couldn't afford to get on Oversight's radar.

"Alright Nick. Make the changes to the profile. You'll be leading the team. Everyone is on close quarter standby." She told him.

Shock registered on his face and Nikita smiled. He wanted to be a leader? Then _be_ a leader.

"Yes Operations. Right away."

Michelle was walking away from the briefing table when Nikita's voice stopped her.

"Michelle, dinner in the tower later?"

Michelle stopped but didn't turn around.

"Not tonight Nikita." She replied and kept going.

Nikita cocked her head at an angle, wringing her hands behind her back, willing herself not to respond back. Oh yes, something was definitely up.

Walter watched Michelle's retreating back. More trouble was brewing.

It would seem that Daddy wasn't the only one with a power hungry streak a mile long. He would have to send him a message, tell him he should have spent more energy on all that genetic trait testing he'd had a team working on many moons ago.

As any good military man knew, when you were at war, which they most certainly were, there could only be one leader.


	12. Row 8, Plot 30

**Disclaimer:** Don't any of it and this is just for fun

**Archive:** Sure but let me know where 

**Violence and Character Death -**Don't hate me and don't stop reading. I promise it will all work out.

FYI: I am out of the country for a few weeks so there won't be any updates. Please, please review and let me know what you think. There are a lot of loose ends here which I realize but I don't want to drag it out so long that it becomes boring. Give me your thoughts. Also do I need to change the rating for violence? Thanks!

* * *

**_Wednesday morning – San Francisco_**

The sun was having a hard time breaking through the scattered dark clouds. The weather here often reminded Michael of Paris, today was no exception. But the yellow school bus waiting at the curb in front of him was enough to brighten the dull gray above him.

Adam had stayed up later than normal last night because he had wanted to go through every dinosaur book he had, for the 100th time, to try and memorize the names. Michael couldn't help but indulge him.

He was such a good boy, so inquisitive…and smart. He was well advanced compared to the other children in the class and Michael was extremely proud of him. With everything they had been through it was amazing the way he had adapted to the last 8 months.

Much better than I have, Michael thought to himself. He hadn't realized just how much of a hermit he could be.

In Section there were never many choices and even when you believed you were doing the choosing more often than not you were even wrong about that. Michael, the operative hadn't had a choice but to be out and about in society, in all its forms, even the seediest of them. If you weren't under the gun then you were under order and under pressure to perform in some capacity.

It hadn't been until later, until Adam and then Nikita, that the right to choose his own path had become so important.

Only now, away from it all, did he realize that in Section life, it was the only way it could be. Row 8, Plot 30. That was the last real choice you made.

Now he had nothing but options. He could sit in his and Adam's small yard with a classic novel or maybe just his laptop and speak with no one all day. Or not.

There were no missions. He still wasn't sure about the inactivity of it all but he liked the silence of it.

"Daddy, can I sit in the front with you?" Adam asked, tugging on Michael's jacket and jerking him out of his reverie.

"Of course Adam." Michael replied, swinging the backpack with their lunches in it easily over his shoulder, as he helped the kids up the steps into the bus.

**_The Museum – the Atrium_**

"Come on kids, we've reserved this area over here by the T-Rex." Julie spoke, trying to corral the group of 20 youngsters over to their designated lunch area.

One young boy stuck his tongue out when Julie turned her back. Michael secretly smiled but then laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Apologize." Michael told him. He wouldn't tolerate that kind of behavior, not even from a five year old.

Julie looked over her shoulder at Michael's voice. The boy looked up at him with scared eyes, surprised that he'd been caught in the act.

"Sorry Miz Nordstrom." He said softly.

"Apology accepted. Thank you Michael." Julie replied, smiling at Michael. She didn't know what Robbie had done but it didn't matter. Michael had defended her. That was a step in the right direction.

Michael handed Adam his lunch, surveying their surroundings. The atrium was huge with a T-rex skeleton gracing the middle. The light coming through the glass above hit its large teeth casting a menacing shadow on the ground near them.

"I forgot my book in the bus Daddy. I really need it, the one with the dinosaurs in it. Can I go get it? Please Daddy.." Adam pleaded.

Michael regarded his son. It _was_ an educational book. "I'll get it Adam. You stay here with the group. I'll be back soon."

He let them stamp his hand as he exited the museum, looking down the rows of buses for theirs.

**_Back in the Atrium_**

"So you all believe in Evolution do you?" A loud male voice boomed.

Julie jerked her head up towards the sound.

A shot rang out, shattering one of the glass windows sending sharp shards flying over everything. Time seemed to move in slow motion as screams erupted. People became blurred images of colored movement.

A man in his mid fifties stood under the T-Rex skeleton holding an automatic weapon in one hand and a rifle hung across his body with the other.

"Don't anybody move!" The man screamed, firing a few more rounds at the ground.

Julie shut her mouth, gathering the children closer to her. All she felt and heard was small tight sobs and desperate tiny hands grabbing at her.

The man continued, moving his gaze around, looking for those that defied him. He was not disappointed. In the corner a security guard was moving to the side, his walkie-talkie in hand and in the next instant he was face down on the ground a bullet through his chest.

Julie screamed.

And then the shots rang out.

They fractured the surface of people like pebbles skipping across a silent lake. Some of them sank into skin and bone, before sinking to the ground. And some of them made short deadly stops, taking chunks of flesh and fabric with them as they moved on to the next victim.

When the last shot was silenced, it was carnage.

Julie lay on the ground gasping for air, blood splattering the right side of her chest. Around her lay tiny bodies. Broken...red…silent. She tried to move her head to find Jenny. Where was her daughter? She had to find her daughter! She came face to face with Adam's rumpled body lying beside her riddled with bullets.

She couldn't get enough air to scream or sob. She couldn't seem to breathe at all. The last thing she heard was the man yelling; something about monkeys and fools and that someone had to pay for the insanity of it all…then another single shot…and then the silence took her.

**_Outside the Museum_**

Michael had just stepped out of the bus when he heard the shot ring out.

He didn't stop to think. He just started running, Adam's book clutched against his chest inside his jacket.

Everyone around him was running. People poured out of the doors of the museum screaming and sobbing and panicked, yelling about a madman in the atrium.

NO! NO! Michael's mind screamed.

This was not happening.

His legs flew around corners, his arms playing interference with anyone in his path. People were pushed out of his way to the ground. His mind barely registered that some of them had blood on them. He didn't need to see it. He could smell it.

He had to get to Adam. Nothing else mattered. Everything, everyone else was expendable.

As he rounded the corner that led into the atrium, he lost his footing on the floor that was slick with blood, sending him sliding a few feet before he desperately crawled over to where Adam and the group had been.

His now red hands tore through the crumpled bodies until he saw the familiar small dark head of hair.

Tears streamed down his face as he pulled Adam's lifeless body to him.

This was NOT happening. It could NOT be happening.

Michael clutched Adam to his neck, a low feral scream slowly exiting his open mouth that was sobbing against Adam's still warm cheek.

**"NOOOOOOooooooooooooo!"**


	13. Full Circle

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where 

First off, thank you so much for all the great reviews and support of the direction in which I'm going. Secondly, I find it amazing to see that fans of the show can be on the same wavelength post series and years after it has ended. It inspires me!

Lastly, thanks for not flaming me because I left it like this for a few weeks.

Meredith, you mentioned discussion on an LFN thread, if you review again please let me know where because I'd love to check it out!

* * *

**_Section – The Perch_**

Bleary-eyed, Nikita scanned the screens that had become her constant companions. She'd realized that there weren't enough hours in the day to cover all the streams of information in her down time so she'd had Jason re-configure two of the SIM screens with his intelligent program feed.

Let oversight cancel her. She couldn't let this go.

Couldn't or wouldn't? Her conscience asked her.

She ignored it, once again focusing her attention the screens. They were only active in two sectors now and nothing required her immediate attention. These were the justifications that she had come up with for today.

_Michael, where are you? _

Her eyes darted back and forth between the text-feeds and news clips looking for something, anything.

Then she saw it. Something clicked.

Her fingers hit the stop button on the remote device she held in her hand. She restarted the news feed to the beginning, rubbing her eyes. It was hard to believe what she had just read.

**BREAKING NEWS 1800GMT…/SAN FRANCISCO (AP) – San Francisco Police report a shooting by an unidentified gunman at the California Academy of Sciences Natural History Museum in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California. /Local FBI investigating hate crime. / Twenty four deaths confirmed, including 7 children./ Unconfirmed reports gunman committed suicide. / Victims have been transported to area hospitals./ BREAKING NEWS 1801GMT…**

Trembling, she cross-referenced the news feed to local video transmissions. The digital video had not yet resolved, but she turned up the volume and watched, an expression of horror slowly overcoming her face.

**"…_moving over now to Chip for live coverage from the scene."_**

Nikita's hand covered her mouth as she watched the black bags being carried out through blood streaked glass doors.

**"…_eyewitnesses have told me that apparently the gunman was reacting to an recent exhibit on evolution"_**

She listened to the sobbing men and women recounting the nightmare. She watched and she prayed that Michael and Adam weren't in one of those bags.

**"…_hospitals in the area. Families can contact the hotline listed below for further information…"_**

Time slowed for her as a familiar face suddenly filled the screen; a photographer capturing an image that even the most harrowing of criminals had been unable to.

Michael. Alive. On her screen with tears streaming down his face. It was twisted with grief.

She didn't need to call the family hotline to learn what had happened. She saw it in his eyes.

NO! Her mind screamed. This could not be happening! This was not how it was suppose to happen. She was supposed to save them both…

The camera focused in on Michael. His eyes, those beautiful eyes, were full of everything Nikita had never hoped to see again. Desperation. Sadness. Loss. Her memory took her back to the time when Michael thought he would never see Adam again.

This time it was true. How?

As if hearing her thoughts, Michael spoke, looking directly at the camera as the tears continued to fall in thin sparkling lines down his cheeks. One word. Softly. Unmistakable.

"_Josephine."_

Nikita fell to her knees, her hand reaching up for the intercom to Walter's station.

"Walter it's happened. Adam…" Her voice cracked.

"I'll be right there, Sugar." He cut the line.

Nikita's mind reeled. She had to get to him. She had to get to Michael. He was calling for her. He needed her.

And dammit he was exposed! His face was on television, the story sure to be picked up by all of the networks. So much damage control to arrange…Debriefs, emergency re-signatures, digital backtracks…it was almost too much.

She hit the button to Jason's station hard.

"Jason. Plan Echo. Egress: 15 minutes."

Nikita pulled herself up off the floor. Not the time to fall apart. There would be plenty of time for that later. She was still Operations. There was no forgetting that.

Adam was dead.

Nikita could hardly believe it. The tragedy of the blood cover she had always detested had finally come full circle. Or had it? She wasn't sure. One could never be sure of anything in Section.

But Michael was still out there, more alone than ever. Her Michael.

It was time to bring him home.


	14. No Reflection

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where 

Sorry, sorry, that this update has taken longer than I wanted. I just got engaged and planning a wedding seems to have sucked up every spare moment.

Thanks once again for the great reviews. I've still got some more twists up my sleeve…let me know what you think! This is a long chapter so enjoy.

Keep the reviews coming!

* * *

_**35,000 feet in the air**_

The black Section jet sped through the clouds, straining against its limits. The pilots were under strict orders to hit the ground before sunrise.

Leaning back in her chair Nikita let the events of the last few hours wash over her. It still hadn't really hit her. Between passing the Perch over to Sasha, her own new and diabolically improved Madeline, and making sure they had everything they needed to bring Michael back and repair all the damage, she was running on fumes.

She also needed to check on the arrangements for Adam. She was certain that Michael would want him buried next to his mother so she had set those plans into motion.

There were still important questions with no answers.

Where was Michael? She couldn't really tell if he'd been hurt or not…he'd only been on the screen for seconds…just long enough to get his message to her.

They would have to check all the local hospitals. Find Michael. Find Adam. Get a housekeeping team in to sanitize their home –the neighborhood. Retrieve all media, local broadcast local, police forensics, down to the last tourist with a digital. So many loose ends to be tied up. And all the unknowns that she knew were waiting for her in San Francisco.

San Francisco. That was the last place she would have pictured them.

She had the attendant bring her two aspirin and she threw them back with water. Not them. Only Michael.

Jason had informed her before she left that he had already picked up chatter coming through from various terrorist groups about the event. They had their sources too. Michael hadn't been named but that could just be by design.

She had to be prepared for absolutely anything.

Business as usual, Nikita thought to herself sadly.

She let her eyes close for the first time in days, sure that this would be the last time for another few days that she might have time to rest. As she felt her shoulders begin to relax, the message from V.A.T.O.S replayed in her head.

**--Man and child killed with 6 others in random shooting at museum--**

It wasn't correct. She looked across the aisle at one of her bodyguards asleep in his chair. Ex-military. He could sleep through a firebombing. She envied him that.

So many more had been killed…and the man…it hadn't been Michael at all. Had it really been referring to the suicide of the shooter but if so, how had V.A.T.O.S latched onto it in the first place? Because of Adam?

She would never know the specifics behind that answer but the fact that V.A.T.O.S had gotten the scope so wrong bothered her.

Had something changed? Had some small action changed the fates of everyone in the museum that day? Why Adam? Had Michael narrowly escaped death again? Or was this truly his fate to begin with?

It was a snake eating its own tail and she couldn't let it make her crazy.

Nikita pushed the answerless questions from her mind. She needed to rest. She had to keep up her strength. She had a reason now.

"I'm coming for you Michael." She whispered as she let sleep take her.

**_St. Luke's Hospital – just before 5 AM_**

The night nurse sighed…only 15 more minutes until the end of her shift. It had been a long night. Reporters, camera crews, and protesters – they were all there to clog the parking lot and greet her with their bright lights and microphones and candles when she got in for her shift. They were all long gone now and she was glad for the quiet. Just the last few pages of her romance novel and the bank of heart monitors.

She felt eyes on her.

The woman was tall and was wearing a black cloak, the hood hung partly over her head. Her face seemed gentle but her jaw was set tight, and she had piercing blue eyes. Her hand extended forward to rest on the counter, gaunt and silent. It was only then that the nurse noticed two other men were at her station, all in black, all of them appearing out of nowhere. All of them watching her. It was a good fifty feet from the ward entry to her station and she hadn't noticed them come in at all.

They were like wraiths. Like ghosts. A shiver went down her spine.

"Michael Samuelle?" The woman asked softly. It wasn't so much a question as an accusation.

The nurse straightened up. "I'm sorry visiting hours don't start until after 8…you'll have to…" She didn't finish her sentence or notice the fourth figure that had slid up behind her. She felt the slight prick at the back of her neck and everything went dark.

"We have five minutes and not a second more. She'll be awake in ten." Nikita told them, checking the watch under her sleeve.

She lifted the clipboard with the patients' names, praying that well-meaning hospital administrators had tagged all the museum victims like they had at the last hospital.

_Julie Nordstrom, room 402- Museum / Isolation_

But no Michael.

Nikita crossed the hall and entered Room 402 while the team watched the hallway. They had to cover all the bases.

She walked over to the bed where a woman lay under a sickly green fluorescent night light, riddled with tubes and surrounded by life-saving machines. Nikita had seen this kind of damage before. She lifted the tablet at the end of the bed. Collapsed right lung. Shattered collarbone. 3 broken ribs. Hairline fracture, left cheek.

She'd live.

She looked up to find the woman in the bed awake and staring at her.

"Nikita…" The woman mouthed in a small raspy voice.

Nikita straightened up, her shoulders stiff, shock registering on her face. Who was this woman? And how did she know who she was?

Slivers of doubt sliced into her control.

She would have to be contained. Nikita approached the side of bed gently. She still needed information.

"Julie, can you tell me where Michael is?"

Julie blinked, swallowed roughly. Nikita handed her some water and helped her raise it to her lips.

"566 Beach Street. Adam…Jenny…" Julie began crying but Nikita was already out the door.

"Bring her in. Alive." Nikita told the two men standing outside the door. "She recognized me."

The men nodded, understanding all the implications.

"Make sure the nurse doesn't wake up or bring her in too. You choose. It can't be helped. Meet me at thevan in 4 minutes."

Nikita didn't wait for the affirmation. She was already down the hall, getting Jason's upload of the map to Michael's house, already praying that she would be able to reach him, that she wasn't too late…that she wouldn't have to re-live the moment in that loft years ago when she'd found him with the gun.

She shuddered beneath her cloak.

No! Michael was stronger than that. He'd called for her. That was all she needed to hold onto right now.

**_566 Beach St._**

It was a nice size two-story Victorian townhouse, blue with white trim. Nikita allowed herself a small wistful smile. It even had the white picket fence…

They had been watching the house for exactly 10 minutes. No movement inside. No sign of anyone _else_ watching. No signs of life at all unless you had a thermal scanner.

Jason had informed her that there was a single warm body on the second floor in what looked to be a small bedroom.

Michael. It had to be.

"I'm going in." Nikita announced on her sub-vocal. "Alone. Cover all points. Egress on my signal." She stated.

The operatives that had been chosen for this extraction looked at each other. They all knew whom they were retrieving. None of them had actually worked with the legendary Michael but you couldn't walk down a Section corridor now without some echo of his name. They didn't talk about the other whispers they heard…the ones about him and Nikita.

The fog played havoc with their scopes.

This was highly irregular. And uncommonly dangerous, even by Section standards. There wasn't a terrorist on the planet that didn't want to a piece of Michael. That made them ALL targets at this point.

Nikita entered silently. The door was unlocked, as she knew it would be. She wasn't worried about anything except getting to Michael. She followed the directions Jason had given her and seconds later she stood outside a partially closed door.

It was still dark but the blue light of the early morning cast everything in cold grays.

She slowly pushed open the door, speaking as she did.

"Michael?"

Her heart broke at the sight of him. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against what must have been Adam's bed, his face stained by grief and his hands clutching a tattered blanket. He looked up at the sound of her voice.

Nikita didn't feel the tears begin to fall. It felt like eternities since she'd seen him…and for it to happen like this…when would there be justice for them, she wondered?

She dropped to her knees, folding him in her arms, feeling his shoulders shake against her.

"I knew you'd come." Michael whispered into her neck.

"Always Michael, always." Nikita assured him.


	15. Seeing the Light

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where 

First and foremost, thank you so much for your well wishes and congratulations! I really appreciate it. Secondly, I feel like this story could just go on forever….so maybe it will. This is a short chapter but my beta said it was better this way.

Keep those lovely reviews coming!

* * *

_**Section One – Medical **_

Julie awoke slowly, feeling as if there were tiny lead weights on the edges of her lashes making it difficult to open her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the painful bright white light…then she looked down at the restraints on her wrists and ankles. Why was she locked up?

Everything seemed out of focus in her mind. Timelines shattered. Memories that didn't feel real and blocks of time that she couldn't remember at all. The last thing she remembered was being in the hospital…and before that…Jenny!

A strangled sob escaped her throat.

"I see that you're awake." A low feminine voice said.

Julie strained to turn her head but almost instantly the owner of the voice was beside her. A tall slender woman with dark kohl rimmed eyes and a short brown bob was staring at her intently.

"Hello Julie. My name is Sasha. Welcome to Section One."

"Section One?" Julie asked.

"Yes, you'll stay here…for now. We've yet to discover if there are any skills you possess that warrant putting you through training." Sasha informed her.

"Training?" Julie questioned.

What was this woman talking about? Surely she was just asleep and having a terrible nightmare. Yes that had to be it. She closed her eyes willing it to be true but almost as quickly as they closed, they flew open and turned to Sasha.

"Nikita! The hospital! My baby…Jenny…" Julie began openly sobbing and pulling at the restraints, trying to break free.

"Jenny is dead." Sasha stated coldly.

"Adam!" Julie squeaked out through her tears.

"Also dead. You mentioned Nikita before. How did you recognize her in the hospital?"

"From Adam's family drawing that he was showing Michael at open house." Julie told her.

Sasha weighed what she knew with what she did not in an effort to decide if this woman was lying to her. The housekeeping team sent in to sanitize Michael's house had found no evidence of a woman at all. Likewise, no evidence of Michael was found at Julie's house. There was also no information that led them to believe she was a sleeper agent or had ties to any terrorist groups. The two were clearly not in romantic relationship. Their children were in the same Kindergarten class.

What she found hard to believe was that Adam would be able to draw a picture of Nikita that would be recognizable. Highly unlikely but she supposed possible. Adam had shown an artistic gift according to his records, taking after Elena. But they hadn't retrieved this picture that Julie was talking about. That would have to be remedied. If Julie was telling the truth, then she wasn't the only one who could use it to identify Michael or Nikita.

Sasha cursed inwardly. She hated extractions like this for _exactly_ this reason.

"You and Michael never discussed Nikita?" Sasha demanded, leaning over the bed, her eyes inches away from Julie's.

Her pupils barely move, Julie thought absently.

"Michael and I didn't talk…much. He didn't want to. He told me…" Julie's voice broke, "that he didn't date. It was all about school and the kids." Julie explained, suddenly feeling a distinct urge to make herself meaningless to this woman.

Why all the questions about Michael? She wondered. Nikita had asked about him too…

"Is Michael here?" Julie wondered out loud.

Sasha stepped away from the bed.

Interesting, she thought, processing the flashes crossing Julie's features. Fear. Then calculation. Now curiosity. Most new recruits hid their curiosity, at least at first, at least until they knew it wouldn't help them anymore. But then again Sasha thought, she wasn't really a recruit, she was just a situation that had needed to be contained.

What to tell her? It wasn't as if it really mattered if she knew the truth. She certainly wasn't going anywhere. And there were Nikita's rules to follow.

"Of course." Sasha replied and smiled cryptically, catching Julie off guard.

Julie was afraid to speak. She'd felt safer before that smile.

"Michael's come home." Sasha finished and turned to leave.

"Home?" Julie whispered.

Sasha searched her face. The realization was beginning to show. They all went through it. Their desire to just wake up from the nightmare and go back to their old life when everything around them is telling them that it will never happen.

Any minute now she would begin to panic. It was the next important step to her induction if there was to be one. Suspension of disbelief was not on their agenda.

Sasha moved to open the door.

"I don't want to be here anymore! I want to go home! I need to bury Jenny!" Julie screamed at Sasha's back.

"You don't have a home anymore Julie." Sasha paused, letting it sink in.

"There was a fire. You set it. Authorities will find your charred unidentifiable body along with the lovely night nurse who had assisted you home in your crazed injured state."

Julie had stopped crying at some point. The silence was telling.

"Oh and Jenny," Sasha continued "she was cremated a few hours ago per your final request in the note you left in the hospital."

Sasha turned and looked at her. Yes, she was progressing nicely.

"But none of that happened…" Julie whispered, "I want to be with Jenny…" Julie's voice and body began to shake under the crisp white sheets.

"That can be arranged." Sasha told her and walked out.


	16. The Rewrite

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun 

Archive: Sure but let me know where

Thanks again for the great reviews! I'm so glad you liked the last chapter. It would be easy for me to get caught up in just doing M/N stuff but I think it's important to remember where they are and what Section is.

So question for you, anyone from So Cal around here?

* * *

**_Outside Nikita's Private Quarters – Late that night_**

Nikita stood outside her door, willing her nerves to calm down enough so that Michael wouldn't be able to hear her heart pounding.

Her conversation with Center earlier had _not_ gone well. Not that she had expected it to.

Right before she'd linked up on com, a conversation that she and Michael had shared years earlier came to mind. It was on her first mission as the Team Leader and he'd given her quite possibly his best piece of advice ever.

"_It's best to be ruthless. But if you're not, it's essential to appear that way."_

It had stayed with her over the years and while she was much more ruthless today then she had been back then, there were still days when the appearance was all she could muster.

Today was one of those days.

Michael alive and back in Section requiring damage control that went far beyond standard protocol. It was a procedural nightmare. However, she knew Oversight very well now, could predict their motives and next move. And right now they needed another leader; they didn't care where they came from.

That kept them safe, for the moment.

She just wasn't sure what state Michael was in to lead anyone. They'd barely had time to speak since they got back partly because she'd been immediately pulled back into action but mostly because he wasn't ready to yet. He'd declined the sleeping pill as she knew he would.

"Same old Michael…" Nikita whispered under her breath, leaning her head against the cold steel wall.

But she knew it wasn't true. Nothing would ever be the same again and that included them. There were good points to this Nikita knew, but it was daunting just the same.

There was truly nothing to keep them apart now. Except Section…and ghosts…and given a choice, she'd take Section any day.

And then there was the fact that _she_ was Operations, in charge of all they had fought against so hard before. Yes, she had more leeway, more room for the "life" she'd craved so badly before. Perhaps it was just a longer leash. But she had come to the realization that her wish list didn't look like it used to. She would take what she could get, especially when it came to Michael.

Oversight couldn't take her out of play for simply disobeying orders. She knew too much.

Michael. How was he holding up? Nikita tried to fathom the depth of loss he was feeling but she was sure that she was coming up short. She had to keep reminding herself that he had called for her, that he _wanted_ to live.

He'd been out for almost a year…a lifetime really.

They had so much to catch up on. When Julie had recognized her at the hospital, for a second she'd thought maybe she didn't want to know what Michael had been doing all that time, but she quickly dismissed the idea.

They belonged together. And while Nikita knew this, everything that had come to be, this entire sequence of events cemented that certainty. Fate was a wicked bitch but sometimes she got things right.

She would fight for their future together, just as she always had. Some things had changed but never that. She just didn't know what their future looked like right now and she knew she would have to wait to find out…because the only person that could help her was behind the door that her head rested next to, inside his own head, trapped in his own private world, full of grief.

**_Inside Nikita's Quarters_**

Michael had been staring at the ceiling for hours. He was out of tears. And he had long forgotten just how draining it was to cry until you couldn't cry anymore.

But he didn't want to sleep. The only barrier he had against the sickening images slithering around in his head was his willpower and sleep would strip him of that. Break things loose.

Maybe when Nikita came back…she'd always been the only one to hold the demons at bay.

He was thankful that she had brought him here, to her own personal space and not to some sterile close-quarters chamber.

He inhaled deeply. It smelled like her in here, in the bedroom where she had been sleeping without him for almost a year. And it soothed him, just as the fact that he knew there were no eyes watching him here soothed him. She'd known he would need privacy and he was grateful he hadn't had to ask for it.

He had held himself together from the time he had entered the van in San Francisco to the time Nikita had left him here, telling him that she would be back in a few hours.

He'd only replied "Thank you." but he was sure that she'd known what he meant. Only then did he allow himself to let all the pain and grief eating away inside of him out.

And now that he had, oddly enough, he felt a certain sense of peace. It was the last thing he would have expected given the circumstances so he was trying to place where it was coming from.

In the end it came back to Section. Like everything else…and everyone…it seemed.

He was back. He'd always felt like he was living on borrowed time when he'd been with Elena and Adam. It was one of the cruelest and yet the most rewarding things Section had ever made him do…and it hadn't even been real.

Not like the bullets were real. Not like Nikita was real. Never as real and alive as how he felt after profiling a mission and watching it save thousands of lives.

No, he'd been living someone else's life there in that house with them.

Section had stolen the possibility of a real life from Elena, the real person she would have ended up with. Taken her ending and changed it to suit their purposes. Adam, poor Adam, he was just an innocent in all of it…and in the end an innocent victim in the truest sense.

Nikita had told him that the shooter at the museum had acted alone. Not a Section assassin. Not a sleeper agent. Not a Terrorist group. Just some crazed man with a bone to pick with society.

Almost impossible to believe except that it had been Nikita that had said it.

He should hate Section. It should be the last place on earth that he would want to return to…and yet it was the only place he wanted to be.

"_We're family now."_

When Madeline had spoken those Section standard words to him when he'd first been brought to her for training, he had spit on the floor. So very different from Nikita's reaction that he'd watched on video feed years before, her trembling lips and needy glistening eyes.

Would Madeline be happy to know that her prophecy had been fulfilled?

Because Adam was gone… and maybe in some twisted higher plan, he had been living on borrowed time too. Maybe they all had.

Michael loved him so much. Until Adam he hadn't known he could love that, that he would risk everything to love like that. And he had.

He'd risked losing Nikita forever and yet here they were. Together again.

His own son was dead and by normal standards it should be incomprehensible that he could feel hope flare in his heart. But he did. He had learned early on that there wasn't time or space for normal in Section so he barely questioned it

And his first move, the only move that had entered his head, was to get back to Section, home to Nikita. Life outside Section had never felt like home, even with Adam.

Was **_all_** **_that _**the price that had needed to be paid? Was **_this _**his penance so that he could finally find a small slice of peace?

Section sacrificed innocents every day in the name of the greater good. And even though what happened to Elena and then Adam had been different…was he really so conditioned that he could separate the characters from the play?

It hurt to see the truth, but with a clarity that surprised him, this was who he was.

He really did belong in Section. And not because he was the monster he'd often condemned himself to be but because it was the only place where he _knew_ his place. He was better than anyone else at saving lives.

And it was the only place where he could feel truly alive and be with the woman who knew him and loved him anyway.

Maybe everyone found their own private peace in different ways.

He would mourn Adam. He would allow himself to grieve. But he had already been through Hell and survived to live again. He couldn't allow the guilt to eat away at that, to make it mean less than it did.

There was only the future left now. He would make sure every day that the deaths of Elena and Adam had meant something.

He would live the life he now knew was his.


	17. Eyes in the Sky

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

Thanks for all the wonderful quick reviews. Sorry for the lag between chapters!

* * *

**_Sasha's Office_**

Sasha had been watching Michelle and long before Operations had actually asked her to.

Something was not quite right about her. It was Sasha's job to figure out what that thing was.

She'd first started watching her when V.A.T.O.S. had started resending messages. It seemed a little too convenient that Michelle had all the answers in those beginning days. And it was just a little too easy, too picture-puzzle-perfect, to be explained away by efficient planning on the late Mr. Jones' part.

No one was that good.

Then there had been the surveillance video of Michelle in the gym at the punching bag. There was no rational reason for her to have that much anger…unless of course there was another underlying reason for that anger. Sasha was positive there was. From the outside looking in it seemed easy to figure out…younger jealous sister…but Sasha wasn't buying it.

It was obvious that Nikita had been the chosen one in the family, and with good cause. However, while this fact alone could warrant Michelle feeling resentful, even a bit angry, it was not enough to explain the look she had seen on Michelle's face as she had pummeled that bag.

And it was certainly not enough to explain the odd behavior she'd witnessed after Michelle had hurt her foot against the bag. It was almost as if she'd been having a conversation with someone else, but Sasha had checked the other camera angles…no one had been within earshot. The resolve that she had seen in Michelle as she limped away _definitely _had a purpose.

That purpose had yet to reveal itself.

All the evidence indicated a problem and that problem was Michelle.

Sasha reviewed the list in her mind, her personal little method; the incident at the briefing table, the declined dinner requests from Operations, the encoded communiqué on private channels that Jason had yet to be able to break.

Oh yes, she was a big problem.

And then there was the piece de resistance, Michelle's reaction when she had been informed of Adam's death. She had hesitated a half a second longer than was normal given the situation. And the grief that she _had_ expressed had never quite made it to her eyes. Almost but not quite. It was as if she had already known he was dead.

Then when Sasha told her that Michael was alive and in retrieval as they spoke, there had been instantaneous shock in those eyes, shock that he was alive. Had Michelle expected Michael to die in that museum?

How could that be?

None of this made sense, even with the knowledge of the impossibly short message from V.A.T.O.S. that may or may not have been related to the incident.

That was the interesting thing about V.A.T.O.S. messages. They were the accumulation of millions of variables projected over time. Mostly, they were specific, mission-critical intelligence. Brute-force computing. It saved lives but was not very subtle, in Sasha's opinion. But every so often, the ghost of a prediction would cross a screen. Something vague, suggestive, cryptic, preying on the innate human desire to find to meaning, connections where they didn't exist.

But Michelle had clearly believed both Adam and Michael to be dead, a belief that went beyond the scope of a vague message from a machine.

Her eyes went back to the monitor in front of her.

And now this...

Sasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, as she watched the live video feed. She'd been tracking Michelle's movements through Section to see if a pattern emerged but she hadn't anticipated catching Michelle in a blatant crime against Section.

Anyone but Operation's sister, albeit half-sister, would most certainly be cancelled on the spot for this.

She watched Michelle pass through the retinal scan to enter into an area that she was most certainly **not** authorized to enter. She found herself intrigued by Michelle's nerve.

Everyone in Section knew that there were eyes everywhere. Even surveillance was monitored. She would not have thought Michelle capable of such audacity. Something must have changed.

What would cause her to take such a terminal risk?

The answer was obvious. The consequences of not taking the risk were far worse than any punishment she'd suffer at Operations' hands.

Sasha had found the root of Michelle's resolve. Someone outside of Section had a hold on her.

It was possible that someone at Oversight or Center was pulling her strings, but the probability of that being true was significantly less than the possibility that it was not.

And while Sasha wanted to call Security, she needed to find out more.

Now that Operations was back in the Perch, keys in hand, that left Sasha a little extra time to dig a little deeper. Maybe she'd call in a favor from an old contact at Section 6, the one with the uncanny ability to crack even the toughest codes. She was sure that no one had indulged his secret little addiction lately…all she had to do was drop a package in his hands and the information would be hers.

It wasn't that Jason wasn't good but well, from the reports that she'd seen, he just wasn't quite a Birkoff and right now she needed a Birkoff.

Methods be damned.

When she faced Michelle in the white room, which she was quite certain she would, she would already know all the answers. The only thing left would be punishment for the lies she knew Michelle would tell.

Sasha sighed. This was not a job for someone who lacked commitment. And Sasha believed in being the best at what you did.

One more reason it was to Section's advantage that Michael Samuelle was back. Even the dead needed a hero every once in awhile.


	18. The End of the Beginning

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

I had to change the rating for this chapter due to sexual situations. I hope people will still find it to read, what with "M" stories not being included in the default listing.

Michi – This chapter is for you. Enjoy!

Meredith – Thanks for commenting on Michael's emotional state. I had expected a little confusion on it actually but I'm glad that it is being accepted. I too felt "Gates of Hell", while gut wrenching, went a little overboard and out of character. At this point in Michael's life he doesn't have room for that kind of self-pity in my opinion…and he's got a reason to live that he appreciates now, more than ever. Thanks for the detailed review!

Lyny Angell – Thanks for the huge compliment that it made you want to go watch the show! I just got Season's 2 and 3 on DVD.

* * *

_**Nikita's Quarters**_

Michael heard the soft mechanical swoosh of the door opening and then closing.

Nikita was back.

How many nights in that house with Adam had he fallen asleep dreaming of this moment? The answer no longer mattered. He would not be parted from her again. And physically present or not, Nikita would always be with him. The last 9 months had proven that.

But here, now, watching her walk across the room toward him, he was as captivated by her as he had been the first time he'd looked into those clear blue eyes over 6 years ago in that stark white room. She had touched him even then, with her frantic frightened look and his immediate gut reaction to her lying beneath him in that thin white tank top that hid nothing.

Oh yes he'd wanted her in that first moment and for every moment after.

He remembered Madeline calling him into her office after his Row 8 Plot 30 speech and commenting on the fact that she'd witnessed the look on his face, the way he had tucked his hair behind his ear, and how she expected more from a Level 5 Operative. He'd had to watch his reactions to Nikita from that day on and even now, he fought the urge to squelch them under the surface, hide them from any prying eyes…because there were no eyes, right here, right now. He didn't have to hide anything.

Michael repeated that thought back silently. _He didn't have to hide anything_. He felt the heavy weight of the lies and deceptions from the past begin to ease.

He turned his mind back to the present, back to Nikita. Her angelic face showing the shadow of a smile etched with concern that he was sure was for him. The way her strong slender body swayed as she walked, confident and seductive. She was so naturally sensuous, it was a part of her every fiber. And then his eyes took in the slim black length of cord just barely visible at her neck, tucked inside the front of her jacket, holding the keys to their world.

Would he have to call her Operations? Yes, of course he would, at least outside of these walls.

Who had she brought in to fill all the gaps?

And what role would he play?

There was so much that he would have to get caught up on after being out for so long and yet the most important knowledge remained.

Their love had survived it all.

He stood up from the bed and closed the distance between them.

Nikita stared at him intently. He looked so incredibly sexy with his hair all mussed from lying against the pillows and his shirt open just enough to show that he certainly hadn't been laying off his exercise routine while he had been out.

For a moment she wished that they could just stay here for days, hidden away from the rest of the world, the world full of responsibilities and duties. She understood Paul's intensity much more now than she had before. She also understood how pivotal Madeline had been for him, his backbone of support, bearing the weight of the world with him when it got too heavy.

Oh how she understood that now. Without Michael she'd had to hold herself up, pick herself up, manifest motivation from places she'd never known existed. She'd known she couldn't do it forever. There had been some dark seemingly endless days…but now here he was standing in front of her.

She wasn't alone anymore.

"Hi." Nikita said, taking his outstretched hands.

Michael looked down at her hands, so warm and familiar in his. He moved his thumb around hers, taking in the fine small lines, the tiny scar he remembered from a botched mission in Tripoli. He could trace so much of their history on her body alone.

"Hi." He replied, leaning in, a hair's breadth from her mouth.

God he'd missed her mouth he thought as he claimed it again for his own.

Nikita pressed herself against him as desire slammed full force into her.

"Michael…" She moaned against his lips as his hands pulled her jacket collar to the side, his mouth leaving hers so that his tongue could draw a moist path across her collarbone.

Nikita shuddered with the sheer pleasure of it. He knew her so well.

She let her hands tangle in his hair, drawing him in closer to her…closer than mere words ever could. Their passions had always been well matched, fiery and sentimental, balancing the need of their souls with the demands of their bodies.

Michael didn't question his need for Nikita right here, right now, nor did he find it strange that _this _was exactly what he did need. And he knew that Nikita would understand.

"Nikita…" He whispered against her skin, inhaling her scent deeply. She was imprinted on him as surely as if they had come from the same mold.

Her jacket and camisole fell silently to the floor, joined by Michael's shirt seconds later.

His hands cupped her breasts as his mouth dipped down to taste them.

Nikita's hands splayed across the taut muscles of his back as she moaned softly. Then she felt herself being lifted up into Michael's arms, cradled to his half-naked body. He carried her the few steps to the edge of the bed and gently laid her down, taking a moment to spread her now longer hair out behind her.

"Do you know how many nights I pictured you like this?" He told her rather than asked, his hands tracing down the outline of her body then running themselves back up over her legs to grip her hipbones firmly.

Nikita gasped as he quickly pulled her up to him, wrapping her legs around his hips, her skirt bunched around her waist. She unconsciously bit her lip as his jeans rubbed deliciously against her inner thighs.

He swooped down to take her lip between his teeth, nipping gently, and then he crushed her to his chest tightly.

As Michael relaxed his hold a bit, Nikita drew a deep breath, not breaking the contact of their bodies.

This was the Michael she knew and loved but had not expected given the circumstances. Raw. Demanding. And so capable of telling her everything she needed to know without ever saying a word.

She pulled her head back to lock eyes with him.

"I love you Michael." She said softly as her hands moved around between them to slowly unbutton his jeans.

His lips parted slightly and she heard his small intake of breath as his hands moved around her back to the zipper on her skirt.

"I love you Nikita." He told her, meeting her gaze with his own, blazing with desire.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" He asked her, remembering the Armel mission where she'd been playing word games with him under the guise of their cover.

It was critical to him that she know that he was ready to be that man, the man she had wanted him to be when he couldn't. Elena and Adam had been between them still then and she hadn't even known it.

This was not a mission. Neither of them was under orders to make love for the cameras. The words spoken, whether new or old, were only theirs. It was just the two of them…free from the lies of the past. Finally.

Nikita smiled knowingly. "Not today."

"Well you are…" Michael continued, leaning in to kiss her upturned full lips, his hands grasping her hair holding her to him. "Beautiful."

Nikita sighed, deepening the kiss, as he lowered them both back against the soft sheets.


	19. Portions of Why

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

I'm changing the rating back since I received feedback that it didn't really warrant an "M". Please let me know if you feel otherwise. Enjoy the read and review!

* * *

**Sasha's Office**

While Sasha wasn't quite ready to call Security yet, she certainly wasn't going to let Michelle access anything they didn't want her to. She would have to be contained without _knowing_ she had been contained otherwise whomever was pulling her strings would certainly take measures to cover their tracks. She needed those tracks.

Sasha opened a connection to Jason at Comm.

"Yes." He replied shortly, clearly in the middle of something.

"I need you to secure all restricted information currently located on Level 14. I want no alarms if access is attempted, only logging of what information was attempting to be retrieved. Whatever they request, give them random useless information so it seems like it was a retrieval error. You have 9 seconds. Is that clear?" Sasha instructed, quickly and without room for question."

Jason sputtered on the other line, his drawl more pronounced. "That's impossible! I need at least a minute, maybe more."

"Do we or don't we have a contingency for this in Protocol Paris?" Sasha asked, knowing the correct answer.

"Well yes but…"

"We'll discuss this little lapse in memory later." And with that Sasha closed the connection.

Jason's fingers flew across the keyboard executing commands as he muttered under his breath. "9 seconds…might as well be set in the past! That viper is really starting to get on my last nerve…"

**On Level 14**

Michelle's hands visibly trembled as she entered the last sequence of numbers Mr. Jones had given her the previous day.

_Just keep it cool Michelle…you can do this…you're his daughter aren't you?_

9.20.4.6.888.5.02.9

"Shit!" Michelle let out under her breath. "Not 9, 1. Shit! Shit! Shit!"

_Well...are you or aren't you?_

"Exit. Re-enter. No problem. No alarms…yet."

_Every new op goes through this…just trust your instincts…_

Shaky fingers continued.

9.20.4.6.888.5.02.1

A horizontal pad slid open on the panel in front of her. Michelle pulled the small disk out of her bodice, slipped it into the open slot, closed it and began typing on the keypad.

**>exec protocol slipknot**

As the program was running Michelle took a minute to look around. It didn't _look_ so special down here…she thought. She wrapped her arms around herself. And it was freezing.

Just what information was Mr. Jones having her retrieve, Michelle wondered. 

He'd been suspiciously dismissive, even for him.

_"**The less you know the better my dear. If you don't know anything then you can't tell them anything. Consider that lesson number five hundred and sixty four."**_

She was tired of lessons…but she was secretly thrilled that he had requested she carry out this mission. It was something Nikita would have been asked to do, if she had known that Father was still alive. But thankfully she did not. Yet. So that left Michelle.

Finally, she was getting to do something exciting, even if it was nerve-wracking.

The adrenaline felt…delicious…and dangerous. She could see how it could become addictive if one was prone to that sort of thing.

Was this what it felt like to actually kill someone? A sharp thrill ran down her spine.

**>procedure completed successfully**

Michelle quickly removed the disk, put it back in her bodice and closed the electronic pad.

_What would Nikita think if she could see her sister now?_

**Nikita's Quarters – 4 hours later**

Michael rolled over gently, away from Nikita, and glanced at the clock on the side table.

They had slept for almost 4 hours.

A lifetime.

He rolled back over and looked at Nikita.

His fingers closed around an errant lock of blonde hair, moving it away from her face so he could watch her sleep. He could see the evidence on her face of the last 9 months but it did nothing to detract from her beauty. If anything it made her even more beautiful to him.

His attention was pulled from her sleeping form by a blinking red light on the console on her side.

Things couldn't have changed _that_ much. Red meant URGENT in any place or language.

Michael got out of bed, careful not to disturb Nikita, and walked to the living room. She clearly needed her sleep. He was more than capable enough to decide if the message warranted waking her.

He pushed the com button and watched the video screen come up with Sasha's face as she turned toward her cam.

"Hello Michael. Where's Operations?" Sasha smiled to herself, sure that Michael had not yet remembered that he was naked from the waist up.

_You're a lucky woman Nikita._

"Asleep. She needs her rest. Can this wait?"

Interesting, Sasha thought. He probably also didn't realize that he was already slipping back into Section mode, with the exception of his concern for Nikita. In the past she was quite sure he would NOT have revealed that. It was fine with her though. This was the new regime and like Operations, it was a slightly more warm-blooded animal.

Nikita probably would not have minded if she had briefed Michael on Michelle but Operations would not tolerate it if she was not informed first.

"It can wait but not long. Shall we reconvene at 0800?"

2 more hours, Michael calculated, practically forever in Section terms.

"Yes. Thank you." Michael replied and cut the connection but not before he noticed that Sasha's glance slid down to his chest.

He should have remembered to put a shirt on.

Clearly his initial judgment that Sasha preferred women had been incorrect…or maybe not. In here your sexuality had to be as flexible as whatever mission you were assigned to. She could simply be taking an inventory of his assets so that she could use them in the future.

Michael absently tucked his hair behind his left ear. This **was** still Section…even here in Nikita's private space, where they could buy a small slice of privacy.

Michael held back the grimace he felt. No use risking revealing anything more just in case he wrong about just how much privacy they had.

He knew all too well just how much any small slice of privacy would cost he and Nikita. Maybe not now but at some point, somewhere, sometime, they would pay.

He waited for the anger that usually accompanied thoughts of that nature but it never came.

_Looks like Sasha will have to update my file..._

Odd that he cared less about it now than before. But then he had he had been out in the "real" world again just long enough remember that Section wasn't the only place full of unknown price tags and futures that might never deliver. And maybe it wasn't that he cared less but rather that he had made the conscious _choice_ between two existences and this was the one that he had chosen…maybe it wasn't about the price to be paid at all.

Choice. Was it as simple as that?

Already he felt himself being sucked back in to the mentality that prevailed in Section. Question, question and then question again just to be on the safe side.

He was a survivalist after all but he wouldn't think about it anymore right now. It wouldn't change anything. Adam was still dead and he would have to bury him tomorrow. Only then would he be able to walk through that door in his life to fully enter into this one, no matter what it looked like.

For the moment that was here and now, he had 2 more precious hours alone with Nikita and he didn't intend to waste them.


	20. Category 5

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

I would love to see some reviews and feedback. Lots of action coming soon!

* * *

**_Overlooking the Caribbean Sea_**

Mr. Jones sat in his study in the dark. Alone. He had sent Camille away hours ago. It wouldn't do to have any witnesses to the state he was in.

He slowly lifted the snifter that he'd poured earlier. He willed the smooth cognac to soothe his frayed nerves.

He had seen it too. Not in real time, but later – on an archive feed. Now, between the news coverage of the museum shooting in San Francisco (of all places) and Walter's last communication, he was surprised that he hadn't emptied the whole bottle by now.

Michael. Alive.

How had this happened? It changed everything and none of it for the better. He had to admit though that once he'd seen Michael's face on the television, for that damnable split second, he'd known that Nikita would retrieve him.

It wasn't so different really from when Michael had believed that he would never see Adam again. Only this time it was true. Madeline and Paul had thought that nothing would keep Michael and Nikita apart anymore. Paul even recited his tedious hunting dog speech…how wrong they had been.

They hadn't known the truth about him yet. They hadn't known the "real" Mr. Jones and his relationship to Nikita.

But now it seemed that all but one of the cards were on the table face up. With Adam dead and Michael back in Section, he and Nikita would surely come together as never before.

He had tried to stop it. He had tried to change the future. It would seem that he had failed. He had only delayed the inevitable, sent fate running on tangent for a short while.

His hand lifted the snifter again, and he tried to ignore the slight tremor in his fingers that had become more prevalent lately.

Nine months…that was the small amount of time he had bought.

Pathetic.

All the plans he had formulated were being re-written. Players were being written out and new ones written in. Timelines adjusted, critical paths shifted, everything had to work together to achieve the end result which itself had changed.

He'd been in worse situations.

And perhaps it wasn't so bad…once he was able to review the data that Michelle retrieved he would know more. What he did know was that he was going to have to be resurrected much sooner than he had planned.

There was some justice in that. He hated it here. Hated the constant sunshine and the way his shirts always stuck to him. He hated the damn bugs the size of small cars, and he hated the food, despite his chef's best efforts.

But most of all he missed living on the edge of the precipice. That wall between order and chaos that was Center. This time away had given him too much time to think about all the things that he wanted to forget…things that even an eternity of time and V.A.T.O.S. algorithms couldn't change.

He drained his glass and wondered how Center was handling the return of Michael. How the old guards, huddling in the blue glow of their war rooms far below the surface, not unlike him, were figuring out how to deal with the Section Savior back in the game.

Mr. Jones smiled. Not graciously, he guessed. But the bigger question: were Michael and Nikita at risk?

That possibility was completely unacceptable. He wasn't at all sure about the answer and he wouldn't be able to figure it out from here. No matter how well they had subverted his plans, he would not accept them in a position of risk. He'd come too far, risked too much himself, to have it all fall apart now.

The last card down was about to be revealed.

Mr. Jones pushed the com button on his phone and spoke. "Camille. It's time."

_Time to trust your father again, my dear Nikita…_

**_Sasha's Office_**

"Jason. My office. I'd like that data now."

Sasha had watched the video of Michelle a dozen times, and had methodically picked apart each frame. She had clearly seen the thrill of danger that had passed over the woman's features. Worse, she had also seen the desire for more.

Michelle was escalating. The situation would have to be contained as soon as possible, even faster, without losing the scent of the person pulling her strings.

She was fairly certain that many of her outstanding questions would be answered by the data Jason would give her. There were only so many reasons, a limited number of possibilities after all, why someone would want to hack Section.

She was certain that it had nothing to do with the Directory, which was fortunate. If that had been the case then she wouldn't have had the luxury of an hour to go over the video. It had proved useful.

Jason knocked. The door slid open, Jason entered and handed her a disk.

"Whoever this was, they definitely know our systems. It wasn't easy backtracking and reformatting the queries." He told her.

Sasha gave him her best Mona Lisa smile.

"Are you certain that your trace won't be detected in the retrieved data?" It was more of an accusation.

Jason swallowed. He hated how conversations with Sasha always ended up in black and white.

"Yes…as much as anyone can be." He stammered, immediately regretting adding the qualification.

The smile was gone.

"That will be all." Sasha told him and turned her attention to the disk in her hand but not before she saw the surprise in Jason's eyes. Evidently, he had expected them to have their little discussion right now.

She found it fascinating that even in Section, people lived with expectations. Such a simple human desire, to constantly attempt to read one's self into the future so that circumstances wouldn't come as such a shock or even worse, so that the edge that came with unpredictability would be softened.

They would talk later…when he had almost forgotten about the incident. Only then would she also be able to plumb the source of his animosity and insecurity.

Clearly, he hadn't been taught the same lessons that she had as a very young girl.

Expectations were for dreamers and fools. Those tendencies had been beaten out of her long before she had even known what they meant.


	21. Family Portrait

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

It's hard to believe it has been a year since I updated this…I wonder if anyone will even read it. If you do read it, please review and let me know if I should continue. I realize that very long stories can be hard to keep up with.

* * *

**_The Perch – 2 hours later_**

Nikita stood next to Michael looking down at Com.

"She didn't give you any idea what needed to be discussed?" She asked him, a quiver of anticipation shooting through her, even though she already knew the answer.

Of course Sasha wouldn't tell Michael, not before telling her. She knew the rules.

Still Nikita couldn't shake the feeling that _whatever_ Sasha was going to tell her she was not going to like. Maybe she shouldn't have had Michael come with her…but they needed to leave shortly to bury Adam and now that he was back, she couldn't stomach the thought of him not being at her side.

There would be no secrets between them, not anymore.

The door slid open and Sasha entered.

"Operations. Michael." Sasha hid her surprise that Operations had allowed Michael to hear her new information in real time. She wondered if she had known what the subject matter was if that decision would have changed. It mattered not though. She wouldn't question her judgment.

"We have an internal security breach." She told them.

Michael's face revealed nothing. Nikita however let a flash of anger pass over her features.

"Has it been contained?"

"In a sense, yes."

"Who?"

There were things she would tolerate. A mole was NOT one of them. She understood the irony of it since she herself had _been_ a mole. Nevertheless, she would not allow it and even she had known the consequences of discovery when she had been in that position.

Sasha moved over to the window, looking over at Jason who was speaking with Michelle.

Nikita's gaze followed hers and her eyes turned to Sasha, questioning.

"Jason?" Operations asked, incredulously. She found that difficult to believe.

"No." Sasha replied, suddenly aware that she was dragging this out which was entirely not her style.

"It's Michelle." She told her calmly.

Nikita's hands gripped the ledge. Sasha noticed the surprise in Michael's eyes the split second before he hid it and moved slightly closer to Nikita.

"Impossible." Operations ground out between clenched teeth.

But even as she said it, she knew it to be true. And what made her the angriest was that she had known something was going on with Michelle. Why else would she have asked Sasha to monitor her? She just hadn't expected that her own sister would betray her…betray Section…something relatively harmless maybe…but NEVER this.

Why Michelle? Why?

Sasha allowed Operations a moment to come to grips with this new and disturbing development.

Michael looked down at Michelle in Com, thankful that the glass and some distance separated them – for Michelle's sake. He didn't care that he had a double standard; that he could handle that Nikita had been a mole, had seemingly betrayed them all. The mere thought that her own sister would betray her made him want to wrap his hands around her neck.

Yes, Nikita was Operations but she was also **his** and no one was allowed to hurt her.

"How would you like me to proceed?" Sasha asked.

"Send me the information you've gathered. I will be handling this personally, involving you when necessary…" Nikita replied, turning her head to stare down at her betrayer.

Sasha nodded. "As you wish."

Looking back at her second in command, Nikita spoke, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. She knew how Sasha felt about following protocol and in this situation she had clearly not. It was a transgression on her part and Nikita was thankful for it

"And thank you Sasha…for not having Security immediately pick her up. Michael and I will be leaving Section shortly. We'll be back later tonight. She is not allowed to leave in my absence but I do not want her tipped off that she has been discovered. Lock down Section if you have to, a drill, whatever. I'll deal with Center."

"Of course."

Nikita waited until the door slid shut behind Sasha to darken the Perch and move toward Michael.

Michael silently wrapped his arms around her, feeling her arms shake against his sides.

This was the last thing they needed right now when they were about to bury his son. He knew all too well what she was feeling and he wondered, what, if anything, might save Michelle's life…because the only thing worse than her betrayal right now would be her cancellation at Nikita's hands.

And he couldn't help but think that they were already beginning to pay.

**_Overlooking the Caribbean Sea_**

As soon as Mr. Jones had looked over the information Michelle had sent he knew he had to act even faster than he had originally thought.

She had been discovered.

There was no other logical explanation for the garbage information he was looking at. Someone had found her out _before_ she had executed the query. In another situation he might find humor in it but not today. They had actually thought him naïve enough to believe that something had just gone wrong, that the data had somehow gotten extracted incorrectly.

Things did not just go wrong in Section. _Not unless someone made them._

That also meant that they would now know what data he had been trying to retrieve. His scowl deepened.

This was what happened when plans failed, when critical paths changed, he thought to himself, disgusted. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion…the first impact, the crumpling of steel, shocking – yes, but nothing compared to the final jumbled mess of metal and flesh.

He needed to stop this train, fix it, and quickly. He also needed to keep Michelle alive.

Nikita might think she could handle another death in the family but he was quite certain it would break her. And in that twist of fate, by saving Michelle, she would also get her father back.

Whether she was ready or not, they were about to become a family again. Of course Michael wasn't suppose to have been a part of that picture but he could prove useful. When hadn't he?

He figured he had a 13-hour window on the outside while they buried Adam. Pushing the com button he spoke.

"Camille – tell the pilot we are leaving. Now."


	22. Dead Man Walking

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

Thanks for the reviews! Please login if you are a member so that I have a way to contact you (I might need that French help!). I'm planning on wrapping this story up relatively soon but I hope a few of you are still reading it and enjoying…

* * *

_**The South of France – A Cemetery**_

The rain had been coming down steadily for over an hour now. The ground was now dark and saturated – there was the faint scent of fertilizer but it was over-shadowed by the larger one of death, impossible to ignore.

Michael was certain he could still smell the blood, Adam's blood that he'd had to wash off his hands. Maybe it would never go away…maybe he didn't want it to. Somehow, being here, next to Elena's grave, was quickly chipping away at the earlier peace he had felt.

_If he could just smell it forever then Adam would never fade from memory, never be forgotten…_

Nikita held the umbrella over their heads, trying to give Michael the mental space she knew he would want. His face had remained fairly impassive but she'd noticed the edges of his eyes crinkle slightly and his lips press more tightly together. It was clear that he was desperately trying to hold it together. If only she could have convinced Sasha that they didn't need a security detail then maybe he wouldn't feel the need to.

Turning around, she motioned to the men behind them to fall back. If they had to be here, they could damn well give them a little space.

Silently Michael walked out into the rain and knelt between the two graves, one barely covered with dirt and the other shimmering with a cover of emerald green grass. Both held the flowers he had requested and the red roses stood out like the blood on his hands had.

"I know you'll look after him Elena…" he whispered.

Michael allowed his fingers to worry themselves in the fresh dirt, his hair dripping down his face hiding the tears, as he finished what he needed to say.

"Kiss him goodbye for me. I loved you both and I won't forget."

He stood up, aware that Nikita had not moved, but was allowing him this moment to say his goodbyes. The rain had slowed and there was even a small spot of light coming through the still ominous gray clouds.

Nikita looked up at the small sliver of warmth and regarded it as a sign of better things to come. Even in Section, you had to have hope. She prayed that Michael would continue to find his.

Walking back over to Nikita, Michael took her gloved hand that was free in his own and squeezed.

It was time to go…and he didn't think he'd return any time soon. He wanted the memories he kept of them to be something other than this.

As they walked through the headstones, hand in hand, toward the waiting car, he didn't look back.

_**Section – Sasha's Office**_

Very few things in life surprised Sasha anymore.

Mr. Jones, the _real_ Mr. Jones - the dead Mr. Jones - sitting across from her in her office qualified as one of those things.

She had to admit, she was impressed and just a bit leery. He had gotten through Oversight, dealt with Center and the announcement of his arrival had come minutes before she'd watched the access door slide open to witness him return from the dead.

Operations was going to be…well, she didn't want to think about what Operations might be quite yet. She was still trying process what Nikita's reaction might be. The conclusions that she was coming to were not pretty.

The only relief to be had in this difficult situation was that Michelle had probably been spared because of his appearance. It was clear that the retrieval of information attempted by Michelle had been driven by her father even though he had yet to offer any information on _why_ he was here.

Indeed she had a few obvious conclusions of her own after looking at the real data he'd tried to acquire but it had already become strikingly clear that nothing about this man was obvious.

People died _before_ they came to Section. They didn't die in Section only to come back later.

They had been sitting in silence, sizing each other up, for a few minutes now but she needed information before Nikita and Michael returned and she had less than 2 hours to get it AND control of the situation.

"Welcome back Mr. Jones. Or would you prefer to be called something else? Deceased, perhaps?" She asked him stonily.

Tapping his cane a few times on the ground, Mr. Jones regarded Sasha.

He'd read her file – thankfully, that hadn't required Michelle's blundering help. Nikita had chosen well. She was _almost_ chillier than Madeline had been. However, he was quite certain that Madeline would have had Michelle put in the white room immediately and set the twins on her in seconds. Sasha had not.

For that, he owed her at least part of the truth.

"I'm sure you would prefer that title Sasha however I'm sorry I cannot oblige you. Mr. Jones will do for now. I want to thank you for Michelle. I was quite worried about the outcome of the situation when I realized that we had been discovered..."

Her clasped hands tightened on each other under her desk where he couldn't see them. Clever bastard...purposefully pointing out her break in protocol. Mentally she pushed the anger back, remaining perfectly composed outwardly.

"But then Michelle contacted me again and I realized that things here must have changed under Nikita's reign already. The old Madeline…well, suffices to say…we wouldn't be having the same kind of conversation. I've always known that Nikita was born a leader; that she would help take Section where it needed to go. Of course I hadn't planned on coming back from the dead this soon but it would seem that your skills have forced my hand. Considering how I despised the Caribbean though maybe I should be thanking you for more than just Michelle…"

Sasha had had enough. She refused to sit here and listen to him prophesize about Operations. Nine months had passed. Nine months since he had forced his own daughter into Perch exile.

"Do I look like a therapist to you Mr. Jones? Save your post-eulogy for someone who doesn't still wish you were dead. The only thing you should be thanking me for right now is that you are not yet in containment. For all I know, you are** not** who you say you are – DNA entry can be faked as of course you are most aware - and **Operations** is not up for discussion. You and Michelle are in her hands now. You'll stay here until she returns and decides both your fates."

Sasha stood up, not wanting to think about the small smile that was gracing his face. She looked away from him for a moment but then turned back and noticed the shaking of his hand that held his cane.

Why hadn't she seen that before?

Narrowing her eyes in, she focused solely on the shaky movements of his fingers that he was unable to control.

Mr. Jones looked down at the focus of her attention, the smile leaving his face as he returned to meet her gaze.

Realization dawned on her…Mr. Jones was ill.

Maybe he hadn't planned on coming back from the dead _this_ soon…maybe there were other reasons that he'd passed the Perch on…maybe he wasn't solely selfish…but she didn't care and refused to entertain such thoughts.

Section was her home. Maybe's didn't belong here and that was just how she liked it.

She would gladly put a bullet through his head if he thought for one second that he would be able to change that. So Sasha did what **she** was born to do and flashed him her infamous smile that told him so right before she left.

"See you in a few hours _Mr. Jones_."


	23. From Bad to Worse

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

I know it's been forever and I'm sorry for that because I really love this story…but some recent reviews (endless reader, tlovmai) have made me want to pick up this and "Something to Remember" and work to finish them. I hope I've still got the voices right and that the story lives up to the previous chapters. Please read and review – I LOVE feedback.

**Back at Section**

Michael and Nikita stepped out of the van and proceeded down to the bowels of Section and ultimately, to Sasha's office. She'd requested their presence immediately upon arrival and Nikita worried that things with Michelle had taken a turn for the worse.

How much worse could they get? She thought to herself…and Julie came to mind.

Michael had explained everything, even how it was possible that she had recognized her at the hospital. It never ceased to amaze her how the smallest of actions, a hand drawn family picture by a five year-old little boy, could alter someone's existence forever. So far she had yet to come up with a scenario where Julie could walk away from Section.

Even if she could, she was sadly certain that Oversight would have no part of it. There was enough damage control to manage as is. They still hadn't gotten their hands on the T.V. camera that had captured the image of Michael and by now there was most likely a backup of said tape that they would also need to find and destroy.

There was also still the small matter of his disappearance. Now that he was back inside, he was in. It was clear that there would be no more straddling the line between Section and well, everything else. He'd been compromised.

But right now, there was Michelle to deal with and Julie. They'd deal with the simpler of the two first.

Nikita turned to Michael, her fingers reaching out to graze his as they walked.

"We're going to have to figure out what to do with Julie, Michael…"

"I know. I'll handle it." He replied, keeping his face forward but returning the touch with a small squeeze of her hand.

They had reached Sasha's office. She turned to him as she pressed her palm to the door.

"We'll handle it toge…" Her voice broke off as the door opened and she stopped in her tracks, a shock flying through her body at lightening speed.

It couldn't be…it wasn't possible…

"Father?"

Her eyes filled with unwelcome tears. She felt Michael's arm go around her side to support her if she needed it. Hands that had been grazing his fingers moments ago, fisted at her sides in sudden anger.

What the **hell **was going on?

Sasha gave her a rare questioning slight tilt of her head that didn't match the frightening almost feral look in her dark eyes.

"Hello Nikita." The ghost replied.

"You're dead." She stated, simply and with barely contained fury, as she walked over to where he sat, cane in hand.

"It would seem not."

And then suddenly, everything started clicking into place.

Michelle…her return, the changes she'd been seeing in her and finally, the betrayal.

V.A.T.O.S – that goddamn devil of a machine that almost drove her to insanity with its zettabytes of data and fortune like telling abilities.

Her father's message from the dead…just a ploy…another of his countless ploys to get her to do his bidding, follow some pre-ordained path that he believed to be her fate.

Michael and Adam. He'd known. He'd known all along that V.A.T.O.S. would predict their death and that she would be left alone to try and stop it.

And that was why he was here right now, back from the dead, back to torture her some more in his all too familiar way…because he'd gotten it wrong.

Or at least he'd gotten part of it wrong. Adam was still dead. She hadn't been able to do anything about that. In reality, she hadn't done anything at all except not give up and to be watching at the exact moment when Michael had needed her most. If that wasn't fate then she didn't know what was.

How could he have thought she would ever give up?

Mr. Jones watched as Nikita processed the event of his return. He watched as her mind worked through the details, the proverbial "light" going on inside her head. And he watched as her features went from shock and disbelief to anger and then finally settled on utter and complete disgust.

Pushing to stand, he needed his cane more than ever.

Nikita stepped back, raising her hand…as if mere flesh and blood could stop things now.

Michael took a step forward, the able protector, as always.

Sasha, who had stood when they entered, walked to the door.

"I'll leave you all now."

The door closed and the click of the security being engaged was a subtle reminder of just where they were.

Mr. Jones looked at Nikita's face again, searching for some sign, anything. The tears that he'd seen when she first sighted him had dried and he couldn't read her eyes anymore. Knowing her as he did, he was quite sure that there was pain in there somewhere but it was the disgust that radiated from her every pore right now.

He'd been expecting that but it hurt nonetheless and he knew that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Where shall I begin?" He asked, returning to his seat.


	24. The Devil's Den

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

I was listening to the LFN soundtrack while driving to work today and got inspired. Thank you so much for the support for this story after so long…I appreciate it all! Please keep the feedback coming

* * *

_**Sasha's Office**_

"Begin? You think you have the right to BEGIN?" Nikita yelled at him.

"As if I would believe one word that you said anyway. You are finished. **WE** are finished. I'm done with you."

Her father shook her head, an almost sad look crossing his face. "I'm afraid that's not the case Nikita, as much as you might like it to be."

She walked over to Sasha's communication unit. "It is if I say it is. Or did you forget who you gave your precious keys to right before you died?"

Her hand slammed down to open a channel, echoing in the silence. "Security."

Michael watched as her father reached for his cane, struggling to stand. His well-trained Section eyes didn't miss the tremble in his old fingers gripping the handle, a tremble that hadn't been there a year ago. He wondered if Nikita saw it too but it was doubtful given the shock of the moment. His eyes traveled up from the handle of the cane to lock eyes with Mr. Jones, giving away nothing of what he was thinking.

Mr. Jones nodded at him, almost imperceptibly, before speaking.

"You know better then to foolishly believe that Oversight would let me facilitate this charade without their blessing Nikita."

She turned away from him to the door, willing Security to walk in so that she wouldn't have to look at him for another second.

The two large men entered, guns drawn – a security call from Sasha's office was never a good thing.

"Take him to containment." She told them, gesturing to her father.

They moved toward him but he waved them off. "I can still walk on my own." They hesitated but saw Operations face and figured that one old man couldn't be too much trouble.

If they only knew, Michael thought to himself, as if he could read their minds…and he wondered just how much longer Mr. Jones _would_ be able to walk on his own. He and Nikita had a lot to discuss later.

Her father stopped at the threshold, turning back to Nikita. "Everything I've done, every action, every reaction, has been to secure your future as it should be Nikita. Remember that while you are talking with the others who only care about their own future and very little about anything else."

It was ironic Michael thought, all this talk about futures when everyone in Section knew that you could really only count on each moment you were in. That was one of the first lessons you learned in here and it was usually the hard way.

When the door closed, Nikita slammed the comm. again.

"Jason – get me Oversight! And I want my sister Michelle in containment…with my fath…Mr. Jones."

Michael laid his hand on her shoulder, wanting her to know he was here if she needed him. When she turned to look at him, her eyes were wet again.

"This ends now."

* * *

_**Hours later in Operations Personal Quarters**_

Oversight had been vague, Nikita thought. No vague wasn't even the right word - there had been a slight whisper of insecurity or indecision in their words…maybe not even their words but rather the way they structured their sentences.

She didn't like it. Not there was much about Oversight that she did like. It had always been about tolerating, on both sides.

But now they wanted her to bring Michael, Mr. Jones and her sister to The Compound.

She'd never personally been to The Compound and wasn't sure Mr. Jones had either. Existing 666 feet (the architects little personal joke) below the surface, it's exact location unknown, it had been built to withstand just about anything except the earth imploding on itself. The rumors said that it had enough supplies for years along with weapons and communication systems that no one knew existed except for those involved in their making and the Oversight council.

One didn't want to get invited to The Compound. It was the kind of place that once you got there you weren't sure they would let you leave. This was Nikita's biggest worry right now – that mixed with the energy she'd gotten from their conversation left her wondering where they would all end up; dead, alive or worse.

The hatred that she felt building for her father left her feeling sick.

His last words to her were like a tape reel repeating over and over inside her head. That he would think her stupid enough to believe that his life's work had been for her…maybe years ago but no more.

She had been truthful to him when she had told him they were done. It didn't matter what Oversight had to say, that would not change.

Michael had been quiet so far but she was grateful for his presence. He was still dealing with Adam's death; a death it would seem might have been avoided if her father had possessed even the smallest piece of a soul…and now this. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Even by Section's standards, this was insane.

She walked over to where he sat at their data station, checking in on their active missions – ever the diligent operative. It made her feel selfish sometimes, how happy she was that he was back inside with her.

"We need to get ready." She spoke softly, her hand reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.

Again, Julie would have to wait. Sasha could handle everything else while they were gone.

"Yes. We need to be ready too." Michael replied.

Nikita nodded and he drew her into his arms, their bodies flush against each other. If only they could just crawl into bed and escape the rest of the world. He allowed himself a brief moment to remember the days early on in Nikita's first apartment when they had first entered into their relationship. They had been each other's refuge from the beginning. So much and so little had changed.

"He's not well." He told her, not insulting her by trying to soften the blow.

She surprised him with her response. "I know. I noticed it too. It doesn't matter. He was dead to me 24 hours ago. As far as I'm concerned, he can stay that way."

Kissing him briefly, she moved to grab her coat.

Michael wasn't about to argue with her. He wanted to kill the man himself. But he knew Nikita and unless the last year had changed her irrevocably in ways that he couldn't see, it would matter eventually. They'd just have to deal with that then. Right now they needed to head into Devil's den and see what their future held or didn't.

* * *

_**Deep inside The Compound**_

"Welcome Nikita, Michael, Michelle…Mr. Jones." Spoke the gray haired man at the head of a long glass table.

The way the fluorescent lights mirrored off the glass cast an almost eerie sheen around the room. It reminded Michael of Medical and he wondered just how quickly they could get the hell out of here if they had to, knowing how utterly impossible that thought was even as he thought it.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice. We hadn't expected to be having this meeting quite yet but as we all know, the world is an unpredictable place."


	25. Puppets No More

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

Author's note:

Can you believe it? 2 updates in one week!

Sooo I've decided to approach this chapter from a different position than I might normally. There will be a ton revealed here but most of it will be done from Mr. Gray's mental thoughts. It felt more natural that way rather than trying to turn it into snappy dialogue between all of them. I hope you end up liking it…I miss Michael and Nikita talking but all of this needs to get out and I truly think this is the best way. There's plenty of time for them to discuss parts of it in another chapter

Also I'm not sure on Nikita's exact age (my DVD's are packed for a move to a new house this coming weekend) so bear with me if some timelines seem a bit off.

There are only one or two more chapters to go…maybe a sequel AFTER I finish "Something to Remember".

_**Deep inside the Devil's Den**_

He looked from side to side. Michael and Nikita were on his right and Mr. Jones and Michelle were on his left. It was no surprise that they had opted to sit apart from each other given the turn of events.

"We have come to a decision; a plan that will affect all of you and one that your father, Nikita, has been assisting us in realizing. Of course given the outcome of certain parts of the equation we've had to make some adjustments but we believe that these adjustments will actually benefit the plan in the long term."

He sounded like a financial advisor meeting with a client losing money, Nikita thought. Her anger was just simmering under the surface so she couldn't help but scoff out loud. She certainly didn't have the patience to listen to them speak of Adam's death and Michael NOT being dead as "adjustments". Her father and his godforsaken plans were the ones that should be dead.

As for Michael, he knew that they were finally going to find out the "price" for all of this. A small part of him felt relief…relief that maybe, just maybe, there would be some clarity to be found…but he knew Section too well to keep the dread from trailing its' dark fingers up his spine. The helplessness he felt in the situation didn't help.

Nikita glanced at Michael. He may have been wearing his patented blank stare but the energy emanating from him was what she had felt in the courtroom waiting for her sentence from the murder she had NOT committed. They were 666 feet below the surface, clearly at the mercy of those here. There weren't any options for escape and it was crystal clear that the "plan" wasn't up for discussion.

But it was time for everyone to stop running anyway, to remove all the facades. Too many bonds had already been broken…and after all, there wasn't a truly innocent person sitting in the room.

And a part of her wanted to know the whole sordid tale…the conception point of the "plan" and where it fit into all their lives but she remembered what had happened the last time she went looking for answers. She had learned that sometimes the questions cost too much. She was tired of paying for her own mistakes. As she had told her father – she was done.

Looking directly at Mr. Gray, removing any emotion from her face, she spoke.

"Just get to the point."

Interesting, Mr. Gray thought. The old Nikita would have demanded answers. She would have _needed_ to go back to the beginning. Of all the profiles of operatives over the years, hers had fascinated them the most. What drove her was so different from the rest of them. It was what made her perfect for their role for her in the end. And it would seem that the sped up time frame wouldn't affect the plan after all.

There was still Michael to contend with but even he seemed to have fallen into line with what they had in mind…so far at least. Soon it would be out of their hands anyway.

All these years of manipulating each of the players…he thought…a mother here…a child there…a father, more than once…and finally they were here, the finale or the beginning, depending upon how one viewed it. Michael and Nikita would probably view it as just another ploy, another charade until the next surprise, but this time they would be wrong.

It almost made him want to wax poetic at the beauty of it. Almost.

It had after all been the perfect plan. They owed the current Mr. Jones quite a lot for playing his role so well. Of course he got a lot out of it as well…but not every father would have been able to offer up his own child at birth to condemn her to years of hell. The ultimate experiment with your own flesh and blood certainly took fortitude. He'd proved that he possessed that particular trait in spades many times over the years.

Even with the missteps along the way, the center of the plan had stayed true to itself. All 27 years of it with Nikita at the center. Such blind faith they'd had in this plan, based solely on one little girl – no one in Section would believe it, which is part of what made it so perfect.

Her mother had been the easiest of the pawns to control since she'd had no control of her own...until later and that had fit into their plans nicely. The street years had been some of the more stressful times for the group and they had taken out more than a few shady characters wanting to get their hands all over her. Poor fools hadn't known that she was already spoken for in this lifetime.

And the antagonists, Paul and Madeline – the evil leaders – able to help mold Nikita down the path she was born for by being the complete opposite of everything we needed her to become. Their particular personal endings had surprised the group but not Nikita. No, she had accepted them for whom they were, faults and all, and expected no less or more than they were personally capable of. It was only one of her many gifts.

Walter, that sentimentalist; they couldn't have written his part any better then he had done himself. They wondered what Nikita would reveal to him once this was all done…where he would end up. They had taken bets on somewhere in Central America, maybe on a boat or running a small café.

Last they had checked on good ol' Mick, he was back in London doing theatre. He had always been good for some entertainment during the dark days.

And sitting here with them today, Mr. Jones little indiscretion, Michelle – a blip really…she had never been nor would be Section material. Nikita intrinsically knew this and would do right by her, they were sure.

Of course Mr. Jones had been the lead domino the last few years, putting so many things into motion. He had tried, really he had, to make Nikita see what would come to be. They were quite sure that it nearly broke his soul that it had taken his "death" for that to happen. In the end, he had truly had to give her up. Even now, with his disease progressing at a rapid rate, they weren't sure that Nikita would forgive him in time. That would probably be the price he would pay.

And finally, Michael, who had turned out to be the most important player that they hadn't counted on but secretly loved and hated. There was his son Adam, the distasteful but necessary blood cover, that had bought them so little in the end. Still…many places still believed in a life for a life and that was what they had needed. Yes, Michael had kept them up at nights. The had stopped counting how many times he had been written in…and written out…only to be written in again this one last time.

Nikita just wasn't Nikita without Michael.

Leave it to V.A.T.O.S. to get this final important detail wrong. He had a feeling that Nikita would want to come up with some nasty demise for that monstrosity of a machine that she loathed. They would have to impress upon her its' importance through her whole life. Her father hadn't been exaggerating that it had saved her life more than once. The last count had been 267.

So many puppets on their strings, all leading towards this end game. An end game that they were sure would surprise everyone.

Puppets no more.

No one could say that they weren't patient. They had earned this, the Devil's Den group…oh yes, they knew what everyone called them. That was fine after all, if anything it was good, it deflected the attention of those that might look too closely - those that might have seen the vulnerabilities there. It wouldn't have done for those outside the group to know that they actually had semblance of hearts where others thought was only steel. They too had served their purpose well.

But the group was ready to retire. They had all been here from the beginning. It was time for their reign to end; time for the new blood of Section to make it what they will. It was time for Nikita, and Michael as the case would be, to take the reigns…the true reigns, not the fake Mr. Jones and Oversight reigns that they thought pulled the strings.

No, the future of Section would be theirs to write. The responsibility of the world and its' terrors their children per say. They could even contemplate having children of their own if they so liked. They would hardly believe it of course – like he said, this time they would be wrong.

He wondered low long it would take for them to see it for the truth?

It was time to reveal everything…


	26. Against All Odds

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

Author's note:

I think some people were a little confused that they were still waiting for the big reveal but it was actually pretty much done in the last chapter through Mr. Gray's thoughts. I apologize for the long wait after that cliffhanger. As I said before, only a chapter left to go I think…

Would love your reviews as always!

* * *

**Cont.**

To say that Nikita was stunned would be like saying that Hiroshima was just a small mushroom cloud. There weren't words for what was going through her mind right now. She didn't know if there ever would be.

She wondered what Michael could possibly be thinking. It was all so…unbelievable.

Mr. Gray had laid out there whole lives before them and then asked everyone to leave them so that they could be alone to digest their future. He'd actually said it just like that…as if it would be as simple as that…as if they could even trust anything he had said.

Neither of them had spoken or looked at each other yet. She wasn't even sure she could speak if she wanted to.

Her whole life, not just the murder they committed and had her framed for, created for THEM.

Hell, she had only been _**born **_so that they could carry out their experiment, their master plan. They had wanted to see if they could make her what they needed…a risky move, Mr. Gray had said…because after all when she was born they had put all their proverbial eggs into her one tiny basket…

She was going to be sick.

Nikita pushed back out of her seat and ran to the trash bin in the corner of the room and emptied her already empty stomach. In the back of her mind she heard Michael's chair push back as well and gladly took the handkerchief he offered her, his other hand on her back.

The thing of it was, she actually believed them. It was too preposterous NOT to believe.

Her father had impregnated her mother with her simply to see if they could take a child, mold her in the most hideous ways possible, to suit the ultimate role they needed her to play. Boy or girl hadn't mattered…her father's words practically screamed their way through every cell in her body.

_"You were born for this Nikita…"_

No fucking kidding.

"Nikita…" Michael spoke.

"I can't Michael…not yet…give me a..." and she broke into deep heaving sobs, collapsing in his waiting strong arms.

Michael let Nikita fall apart, softly stroking her pale hair. He was amazed honestly that she had made it through Mr. Gray's speech without reaching out to strangle one or all of them. It had taken every ounce of his will power not to do the same.

His mind reeled with everything that had been laid out on the table. Nikita's pivotal role in well, everything…the manipulations of everyone and everything they had touched. Nothing, no "escape", botched mission, not even Birkhoff's death…nothing had been an accident…nothing had been purely fate and life just taking hold…EXCEPT for them.

It was the only thing holding him together at that moment, that knowledge.

That THEY, Michael and Nikita, had against all odds, been able to write themselves into the others' despicable mind-boggling script. The one thing that the old shriveled disgusting men had not been able to plan for was their love and the strength of it.

It gave him hope.

And while he would not have thought it possible when he walked into this room – he believed them. He believed every filthy, cold, spoken word. The upside of this was that IF, and it was still a big IF, everything Mr. Gray had told them was true then they were as free as they ever would be.

Of course they would never be free from their past, free from the knowledge that they had played their parts in this plan of crazy men. They could never be free from the death - even with the possibilities in front of them Michael knew there would be more blood on their hands. After all, someone had to protect the innocent that the normal avenues couldn't. They didn't have a choice in that. Section couldn't just go away overnight. Years ago they might have wished that to be true but neither of them was naïve enough to think that anymore. And someone had to be at the reigns…every dragon needed someone to tame it.

But they could be free to make it what they wanted…free to be exactly who they were…free to make new _choices._

He just needed Nikita to find a way to make it out of this whole. She had always wanted answers and now she had them and they were the things of nightmares.

He had to find a way to make her see that even though they had brought her into being, SHE had made everything else that mattered. They may have pulled the strings in their minds but she was the one with all the power in the end. She was the driving force behind so much good that they could never have even dreamed possible.

They could have the white picket fence. They could have a Cocker Spaniel. Or not.

They could have whatever they wanted. _As long as it's all true_…

Nikita gathered herself together and slowly rose up from Michael's warmth. She felt chilled from the inside out and missed him instantly. Leaning back in, she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Is this still shades of grey Michael?" She asked him in a low quiet voice laced with sadness.

She couldn't talk about everything that had been revealed. Couldn't let her mind wind down the convoluted path they had wrought. She'd been right. The price was more painful then she could ever have imagined.

Lifting away from her a few inches, looking into her eyes, Michael begged her silently to trust him on this. He leaned in and whispered against her lips.

"I want to believe that it can be whatever we make it Nikita."


	27. Epilogue Family

Disclaimer: Don't any of it and this is just for fun

Archive: Sure but let me know where

Author's note:

This is the end of this story...although you never know when inspiration will strike. I'm leaving a few avenues open but giving some closure to where Michael and Nikita ended up. I hope you enjoy this. As a true M/N shipper I just couldn't write anything but a happy ending. Please leave reviews if you are still reading – you've all been amazing.

**6 years later – somewhere in the south of France**

The villa sat high above the Gulf of Lion, more clean lines then most of the traditional villas within striking distance. There was only one way in or out if you didn't account for the helipad. The views of the sparkling blue ocean below were nothing less than breath-taking.

To an outsider, it looked like a normal, albeit slightly more modern, extravagant estate boasting vineyards on the hills and cool perfect breezes year round. An outsider could never have guessed that the entire house had Titanium shutters that could be locked down within seconds. An outsider would never know that the house actually went 2 stories…underground…that the power sources traveled under that pristine gulf of water below and were essentially impenetrable.

And the somewhat decrepit looking barn was actually brand new and housed not 2 but 3 of the world's fastest helicopters, the X2. The outside surveillance and automatic weaponry system, were completely hidden from view unless needed. Most importantly...no one would ever know that in the underground compound, a smaller version of Section One Command Control existed or just Section as it was now called.

No, from the outside, it was just a beautiful home in one of the most incredible parts of the world…removed from the hustle and bustle of city life, of smaller problems that came up when you had too many people living in a finite space.

It was in this home that Nikita sat on one of the many balconies, a cup of tea in hand, looking out at the sparkling diamonds on the water, a tablet at her side…the wind pulling strands of her blonde hair out of her messy top bun.

She smiled to herself as she looked over the most recent recruiting statistics. They had done well.

No more "killing off" character desirable prison mates. Row 8, plot 30 no longer existed.

Yes, they needed recruits but they wanted willing ones…ones who knew what they were signing up for, what they were pledging to do, not being coerced into with the threat of cancellation hanging over their heads. Cancellation was saved for the bad people, the evil unsalvageable ones, whom they fought to save the world from every minute of every day.

It would have surprised Paul, Madeline, the Devil's Den…even her father…just how many people in the world wanted to serve and were willing to die on a daily basis, especially when it came with perks and very little red tape except the blessing of Section Command.

Yes, they had made changes to be proud of - changes that they could _live_ with.

Nikita smiled and closed her eyes as she felt warm hands softly touch her shoulders, fingers digging in lightly to massage away any small amount of tension there. She waited for the lips that she could not live without to touch her own.

She was not disappointed. Michael, she sighed, internally. He had asked her 6 years ago to trust him, to believe that it could be what they wanted it to be…and she had. She had put all of her faith and trust in him, in what they could do together and he had proved to her yet again how incredible he was.

There had been no way to know back then if everything they said had been true. If Section was to be theirs to make into what it should have been from the very beginning and yet, 6 years later, it would seem that it had been true. The Devil's had left the den and the world in their hands and they had proved that Section didn't have to have ulterior motives…that it didn't have to have an evil undercurrent just waiting to drown everyone its path.

No, they had made it better…the best it could be considering the job it had to do. The world was not going to change - it still needed to be protected, at all costs.

The difference was that they had a life now. They no longer looked over their shoulders and around every corner. They could be what they had always only wanted, themselves…together…happy.

As Michael ended their kiss, he moved to sit next to her, smiling as he did so often now. She loved his smile. There wasn't anything she didn't love about him.

"Michael, did you see the new recruitment stats? Amazing!"

He turned the tablet toward himself and reviewed the latest data, his Michael face back in place. She loved that face too.

"Oui. This is very promising to see. Did you have any doubts?" He asked.

He still had moments, few and far between now, but sometimes he did wonder if there would ever be a time when someone would try to change the game on them again. But, 6 years later, they were happier and more free then they had ever been and it was all in their hands now. He was so proud of what they had accomplished and so very proud of Nikita.

After their encounter with the Devil's Den, her father, and all they had revealed he had been worried that she would never be the same. And it was true, she had changed, but only for the better. She had let Michelle leave to have her own life. They kept in contact, she was protected, but she played no role in Section and never would. She hadn't been cut from the same cloth that Nikita had.

Walter, that sweet conniving flirt, had taken it all in stride. Michael often wondered how much of it he had known but it never mattered. He was a part of their life and always would be. He had decided to move to France as well and opened a small wine bar/café in Montpellier. Not long after he had met an older retired French actress and the rest was history. They came to dinner often.

And her father, that merciless Bastard, had only lived another 7 months. They had spoken only a few times during those months. Some damage could not be undone. It was possible she forgave him but more possible that she had accepted her life and he was no longer in it…for the last time…finally.

They had moved on and eventually moved here. It was their haven.

"Doubts Michael? Me?" She teased, leaning over to capture his face in her hands, her lips claiming his as they did so often during the day.

"How could I have doubts when I have you?" She told him, meaning it with all of her heart.

"We have each other." He whispered against her ear. "Always."

Each of them turned as they heard the French doors behind them open and the pounding of little feet heading their way.

"Mommy! Daddy! Look what uncle Walter gave me for Lapo!"

Nikita was helpless to stop a huge smile as their daughter launched herself into her father's arms.

Claire.

Almost 4 years ago she had come into their life as a huge surprise. Nikita remembers the day she took the test like it was yesterday. It was the best surprise they could ever have asked for. She had never been sure with all she had been through if she could even have children…if they even should, given their line of work.

But God she'd been a blessing. They had never known such pure joy…that they could love more then they loved each other.

"Oh he did my sweet Claire! How…um…nice…" Michael held back a grimace looking at the big bone in her hand that had barely been cleaned off and was now covering her perfect little hands with god only knew what….that Walter.

"Lapo! Lapo!" Claire called out, squirming out of her Dad's arms in search of their dog.

From the side of the house bounded what they lovingly referred to as the beast. Lapo, their 170 pound Irish Wolfhound – not quite the Cocker Spaniel they had spoken of so many years ago. He'd already had the name when they took him in from a family that was moving. It meant smack, punch or something like that in Spanish and they had given it to him because he was a bit clumsy and that's what it felt like when he ran up to you and didn't stop quite in time.

From inside the house Walter waved and winked, his other hand holding what looked like the makings for the dinner they were all going to have. She could see Angelique behind him – her arms laden with things as well. They spoiled them so.

Lapo gladly took the bone from Claire and proceeded to plop down on the ground and start chewing. Claire sat on top of him, her blonde curls bouncing and her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. She was such a perfect happy child.

"When I grow up I'm going to be a jockey!" Claire proclaimed proudly as she continued to bounce on Lapo who couldn't have cared less since he was in bone heaven.

"You can be whatever you want to be my beautiful baby." Nikita told her and then whispered under her breath "except maybe super Section operative."

They had made a promise to shield Claire from all things Section for as long as they could and keep her safe and protected.

"What's an operation Mommy?" Claire asked innocently.

Damn those good hearing genes Nikita thought! Michael caught her eye with a raised eyebrow. They would have to be more careful as she got older.

"It's like a plan. Like what are Uncle Water and Angelique making us for dinner! Let's go see!" Nikita told her and picked her up off Lapo, snuggling her neck and inhaling her perfect baby smell.

Michael smiled feeling incredibly grateful as he watched them make their way into the house. This was their life now. They were a family. Maybe not the usual kind but they wouldn't have changed it for the world and he would do anything and everything to protect it.

**_Finis._**

P.S. Thank you so much for reading…maybe someday I'll write Claire's story.


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